


hyacinth

by vhscassette



Series: hyacinth [1]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18554119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vhscassette/pseuds/vhscassette
Summary: yamcha survived something he shouldn't have, and everything changes.





	hyacinth

**Author's Note:**

> this story has:  
> -suicide attempt  
> -slightly au  
> -walking impediment/walking disability  
> -occasional self-deprecating humor/slur reclaim over said disability  
> -emetophobia tw

When Yamcha had first saw the moonlight reflecting off a water puddle a good hundred or two feet below him, on the edge of that cliff, he didn't know what to expect. What was more scary-- the fall, or the moment everything goes black? It wasn't like it would take long, either; all he could hope for was that the fall actually killed him. Seventeen years old, more than enough life to regret and decide that this was the end result.

 

And who was there to stop him? The desert wind at his back and neck? What a joke. His tangled black hair drifted in front of him for a moment before he closed his eyes and stepped off the edge.

 

Fuck this desert shit, and fuck Earth.

 

From somewhere, he heard a piano resonate through his mind and heart.

 

* * *

 

Lights. Lights, and an agony that wasn't usual.

 

Yamcha had, in the back of his consciousness, understood that he wasn't dead.

 

There was something about the weird sensation of nerves in his legs-- at some points, the lack thereof-- as he sat in whatever odd void he was in. Nausea would creep in the pit of what he understood to be his stomach, sometimes becoming near unbearable, until it would fade out again. Sometimes, he heard crying.

 

Whatever the reason was, it meant nothing; he had failed.

 

He failed in dying.

 

* * *

 

"Jesus, Yamcha!" Yamcha's old thief-turned-nurse-friend, Arsis, groaned as he inspected Yamcha's severely crumpled legs. "I _know_ we aren't weak as flowers, but.. This is, like, _emergency room_ shit. Good fucking _lord."_

 

Puar whimpered, curling up into Yamcha's shaking, ashen arms. Yamcha was already in enough pain to knock him out, but he managed to barely hold onto consciousness. "How bad did I fall?" Yamcha said weakly, his voice shaking about as hard as his heartbeat. Everything felt cold and blue, and he hadn't even looked at his legs since the fall a few hours prior. Even now as he sat at his old friend's hideout, he felt like the fall was still happening in his chest.

 

"Fuckin'," Arsis sighed harshly, grabbing another wet cloth and wiping Yamcha's sweaty, clammy face off, "I wouldn't be surprised if the whole damn tibia wasn't completely fractured on both of your fuckin' legs. God.. dude, you're fucking lucky to be alive."

 

Yamcha gulped down dry spit and blood.

 

He wasn't sure if he was lucky or not anymore.

 

".. Yamcha, I love you!" Puar cried, her soft, squeaky voice momentarily breaking him out of his thoughts. His heart hurt; god, he was sorry Puar had to see him this way more than feeling the pain itself.

 

"I love you too, Puar. I'm sorry you-.. you saw this," Yamcha mumbled quietly as he scritched her soft blue head, guilt fading in amidst his daze.

 

"Don't be sorry, Yamcha. I know. I know it was hard. I'm sorry," Puar sobbed quietly, purring in fear as Yamcha rubbed her head. Arsis sighed, wiping his eyes with a hand and sniffling.

 

"I-," Arsis said, gathering his thoughts, "I know that you don't got the money for West City, Yamcha. I'm.. I'll do my best. I know a few people who might be able to fix this shit up."

 

Yamcha smiled weakly. "Dude, I honestly wasn't expecting to survive this nor did I really want to. Anything you do will be more than I was planning."

 

Arsis realized this and sighed, rubbing his eyes again. He stood up. "I'm getting you more painkillers," he said, "so don't move. This'll at least take a _week_ to get going. Stay put and.. and breathe. Just breathe, Yamcha."

 

So, Yamcha did.

 

He breathed in and out through the days that drifted into weeks, the painkillers that flooded in and out of his system for months, and found that he didn't need help anymore. However, something felt odd. Not right.

 

His mobility was not the same as it used to be.

 

Arsis had managed to pull some strings to get him into some back-alley office in West City, somewhere that could x-ray him to see just how much damage had been done. Upon stumbling, aching in discomfort, and shifting oddly, Yamcha eventually got his legs, feet, and lower back scanned.

 

Yamcha, one hot fall afternoon, had found out that his legs had healed incorrectly and could not be fixed.

 

* * *

 

"Give me your Dragon Ball or I kill you. Easy as that," Yamcha smirked toothily at the young monkeyboy, Goku shaking his head solidly.

 

"Nuh-uh! You don't scare me!" Goku said, voice firm in the desert heat. A pig behind him chuckled.

 

"He might not be as tough as he looks. Look at him-- the man can't even stand up right," Oolong snorted, Goku blinking in confusion.

 

Yamcha's head and chest burned with bitter. The desert sun swirled hot overhead, a wavering haze humming over the sands.

 

"Master Yamcha, they don't--" Puar tried comforting softly, her voice a blur in the sharp sands of Yamcha's aggressiveness.

 

"Oh, I'll give'em somethin' to comment on," Yamcha said, pulling out a pistol that glimmered in the heat. If he couldn't use it on himself, he could sure as hell use it on someone else.

 

* * *

 

Yamcha had managed to befriend a monkey-kid, some gorgeous engineer chick, a shapeshifting pig, a gross old man, and a sarcastic monk kid all in a very short time. And--not only that, but said old man was teaching him how to kick ass.

 

Master Roshi did quite a bit of testing with his legs, and Yamcha was both pleased and disappointed-- he was sort of capable of kicking and doing some minor attacks, but many things left his knees buckling and legs tripping. Yamcha's heart roared with pain-- good for nothing _again._

 

Roshi, however, had other ideas.

 

"Look, Yamcha," Roshi instructed, "I've been around for plenty'a years. D'you think I'm that bad of an instructor to _not_ be able to teach different kids?"

 

Yamcha's eyes were wide, and his cheeks suddenly became red in the early afternoon.

 

Roshi smiled, adjusting his glasses. "Okay, y'can't use your legs. We'll try gettin' your speed up, but boy, y'still got two arms that ain't broken! Hell, the Kamehameha can be pulled off with _one_ hand-- although I've _never_ seen any of my students pull it off out of practice. Point being, don't give me that 'givin' up' shit. You seem like you got potential, legs or not."

 

Bulma giggled from the porch. "See? I told'ja so! You got some whoop-ass in 'ya, Yamcha!" she cheered. Yamcha smiled and giggled shakily, scratching the back of his prickling neck.

 

People _really_ believed in him for once.

 

* * *

 

 

"What is it, cripple? Too much for you to handle?" Tien taunted harshly, grinning in the heat of the summer afternoon. His eyes reflected utter malice. It was only fair that it was reciprocated.

 

"Take a step back, three-eyes. You don't even _know_ what I could do to you," Yamcha scoffed, damning his attitude and cruelty. He could _still_ pack in a good right hook, and _boy_   was he ready to show him.

 

"I don't think some _limper_ could be that tough."

 

"Look, dude, just shut the fuck up! I'm not gonna fuck with you before the tournament anyway, so get lost!" Yamcha barked, trying to shove off the regret and rage in his chest. Tien snickered, shrugging.

 

"What? It's not like I'm _lying._ You very clearly have a walking impediment. Why are you even _here?"_ Tien taunted cruelly, gazing at him with a demeaning glare. Yamcha's teeth grit.

 

"Look, you!" Goku said before Yamcha could get a word in, "I don't know _why_ you're being so mean, but Yamcha's one of the toughest guys out here! _Including_ you!"

 

Tien smirked. "Whatever you say, monkeyboy. When he ends up in the ICU, I'll make sure to remind him of just that," he said, turning around with a dark smile before walking off. Chiaotzu snickered rudely and followed, leaving Krillin milliseconds from outright lunging to attack them

 

* * *

 

"He's doin' good so far, but.. he's gotta keep it up!" Krillin said, very focused on the match. Goku looked at the fight, eyes wide and afraid.

 

"What if he falls? Tien won't be nice to him," Goku mumbled nervously, Krillin feeling just as anxious.

 

"Yamcha's a big boy. He.. He won't get hit out that easy, I _know_ it!" Bulma commented, blinking. Yamcha was a rascal of a fighter, still quite faster than most of the other tournament competitors, and he was nothing to spit at with his Wolf Fang Fist.

 

As they spoke, Yamcha got a very good claw in on Tien's face-- _three_ cuts across his cheek. Tien appeared to growl before lunging at him again, another hand-to-hand feud breaking across the arena.

 

Bulma blinked nervously. ".. I still wonder why that Tien dude was so mean to him, though."

 

"His teachers don't seem very nice," Goku said, nervously picking at his lip as his eyes focused intently on Yamcha and Tien near-fighting to the death.

 

"I got half'a mind to punch his lights out. What a big stinkin' jerk-- _you get'im, Yamcha!"_ Krillin yelled in anger, leaning harshly over the edge of the big cement wall separating the pathway outside from the arena. Bulma gently patted his shoulder, pulling him back so he didn't fall in.

 

"I got faith in him. We _all_ gotta have faith-- faith and time."

 

However, time would not wait for Yamcha.

 

His kamehameha had blasted an electric blue, brighter than any ray of light the world had seen before--

 

but had been deflected. The entire stadium was flooded with vivid, burning light as the attack rushed back at him.

 

Yamcha barely managed to avoid the resulting deflection of ki-- his burn-blistered arm was living proof of it.

 

He didn't avoid the resulting kick to the head that Tien launched at him from behind.

 

"Yamcha!" Krillin, Goku, and Bulma screamed, Puar ducking under the cement wall in fear. Cicadas cried as Yamcha hit the cement floor, eyes whirling to the back of his head as he whimpered in pain. He tried clutching the cement, begging his body to get back up again but rapidly falling to the numbness of unconsciousness. He wouldn't have much time left for this.

 

Yet, as Tien's finale--

 

 _"You piece of SHIT!" _Krillin screamed as Tien slammed his knee into Yamcha's. The odd angle snapped it instantly.

 

* * *

 

 

When Yamcha woke up in the hospital bed, he noticed a solid cast on his left leg. Some nurse was writing down shit on a board, noticing his awakening.

 

His left leg hurt. Hurt, right around the calf.

 

His eyes burned, burned _hard_ with anger.

 

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill him," Yamcha growled lowly in his chest.

 

"Sir- _Sir!"_ The nurse yelled, dropping her chart in order to restrain the screaming patient.

 

"I'll fucking _kill_ him! He fucking ruined my _fucking_ leg! _I'LL KILL HIM!"_ Yamcha cried, his voice sharpening from rage and warbling to tears.

 

"Sir, you  _need_ to calm down! Stacy, I'm gonna need backup!" the nurse cried into the hallway, Yamcha attempting to leave the bed and falling down in the process. His leg  _was_ broken-- and the blaring pain in his calf proved it.

 

Tien would pay for it. He fucking would, if it was the last thing Yamcha ever did.

 

Why was this stupid planet out to keep him alive? He vaguely saw Bulma enter the room in a rush when he lost himself to his ache, tears streaming. 

 

Thus began the bitter cocktail of resentment that one couldn't find in a hospital IV.

 

 

* * *

 

Tien bowed, hands on dirt, head touching the grass on the sidewalk.

 

Crickets and bess beetles hummed, a grasshopper jumping across a few tufts of grass a few feet away. Yamcha didn't move from his spot on the cement, shifting his weight painfully.

 

"So, what's this all about?" Yamcha deadpanned, putting a hand on a hip. He knew why.

 

Tien remained silent, bowing in the grass. Yamcha at the very least could commend his resolve.

 

"You could at least afford to answer me, y'know."

 

Tien stiffened, hands clutching the dirt.

 

Yamcha walked the few steps over, gait evident. He wobbled as he got down on a knee, his leg stabbed with pain with a break that never healed. He grabbed Tien by the collar of his yellow tank and forced him up with a grunt. Tien gasped, his face many shades paler than Yamcha expected to see.

 

Yamcha, though, didn't see any reason to give a shit.

 

"You're feeling _bad,_ now? Is _that_ your reasoning? You think this'll all just be fixed by you apologizing, right?" Yamcha glared severely, eyes wide as he stared down Tien who was but a few inches away. Tien was frozen, shaking his head slowly and genuinely. Some people walking by were stopping, _staring,_ but Yamcha didn't care anymore. This was more than some stranger's business.

 

Yamcha kept staring, breathing harshly through his nose. It took him all he had not to deck Tien in the throat. "I broke the entirety of my lower half and a bit of my spine when I was seventeen because I tried killing myself. I jumped off a cliff and landed wrong, and my body never healed right. Guess that's just my problem, huh?"

 

Tien's whimpered quietly, _pathetically,_ Yamcha seeing the gleam in his eyes as he slapped the shit out of him. Tien let himself be hit, eyes wide as Yamcha kept an iron grip on his collar.

 

"What makes you fucking _think_ I should _ever_ forgive you for what you did to my leg?" Yamcha growled, forcing Tien to look at him with a sharp grip of his other hand. Tien's eyes were soft and flooded with tears, wrinkles of his shivering lips scratched on his face.

 

"I don't expect you to," he said, voice trembling. Yamcha slapped him again for good measure and let go of his collar, standing up and groaning in pain as his body refused to work with him on this simple action. He inhaled, exhaled, looked at the silent and still body that laid awake in the grass in shame.

 

"It's good that you didn't," Yamcha said as he turned and walked away, feet aching on the pavement. He needed to get ready for their tournament reward dinner.

 

Things changed when Goku discovered Krillin's corpse on the empty tournament room floor.

 

* * *

 

Krillin was dead. Yamcha only got to hold his corpse for a mere moment before the waves of nausea and sorrow filled his chest.

 

Before they had realized it, though, Goku had fled to find the one who killed Krillin.

 

And then they had moved islands.

 

He was now injured more than he normally was, now requiring crutches to move his already weakened legs. Barely able to manage _that_ without falling to the floor, Bulma often helped him move around.

 

He was ripped from the roots down, feeling just as he did the moment he stared down the cliffside.

 

Yamcha let himself become lost in his loneliness and mourning.

 

One afternoon, the waves softly crashing differently than their true home, Tien had moved and sat on the floor beside him. Yamcha glanced at him, the anger in his chest rising only as bubbles in a water bottle before subsiding. It was pretty hard to feel anything _other_ than shit, nowadays.

 

Tien's glance was gentle. "Can I get you a pillow? Or a glass of water?" he asked quietly, on his knees like the obedient little crane-student he grew up to be. Yamcha suddenly grimaced at that thought--

 

'Crane Student' was not who Tien was anymore.

 

In fact, no one was who they once were. Not even Yamcha. He didn't even realize he could _get_ that angry at somebody before Tien had broken his leg. But by somebody else..

 

Who was he mad at? Yamcha sighed.

 

"You can leave him alone for starters, Birdbrain," Bulma said from the kitchen, washing a plate quite aggressively as Yamcha gently rolled his eyes.

 

"Easy, babe," Yamcha called from the floor by the sofa, turning his head back toward Tien. "I'm fine."

 

Tien nodded and bowed, standing up gently before walking outside.

 

Yamcha watched his form as he left before snickering quietly, all without emotion. "God damn. Man's all sweet as sugar once his god damned teachers are out of the equation."

 

"I don't know, Yamcha.. I'd keep an eye on him," Bulma said, turning off the sink and drying her hands on a towel near her. "He's.. he's an odd one."

 

Yamcha smirked. "Yeah, I suppose. I don't know. Maybe he'll turn out like Puar and I did."

 

Bulma smiled. ".. If he really _isn't_ dangerous.. then a new friend might do us some good. You're a bit too much for my tastes."

 

"Understandable, what, with Mr. Walking-Impairment-And-A-Half," Yamcha shrugged, laughing as Bulma choked on her own spit.

 

* * *

 

"Any and _everyone_ I've ever known and loved is _dying,_ Tien! I _need_ to fucking do _something--_ _anything!_ I would think _you'd_ fucking understand why I want to help you with the Containment Wave!"

 

Tien's arms trembled before he walked over to Yamcha and firmly grabbed at his hands, holding them in place. Yamcha immediately stilled, his stomach numbing.

 

"Yamcha," Tien started, voice gravely serious, "you were right. We _are_ the only ones left. I'm just-- I.. I wasn't supposed to make it this far."

 

Yamcha's heart ran cold.

 

"My beliefs, my family, and anything I ever had known in my life has been taken away. Chiaotzu is gone. My life is all that's left, and it seems I'm not given much of a choice with _that,_ either."

 

Tien's grip on Yamcha's hands softened.

 

"All my ties that keep me attached to this world have been torn. But you, Yamcha? _You_ have so many reasons to stay right behind you. You have what I do not, and I'm _not_ going to stand here and let you throw it all away if _I_ can handle King Piccolo myself!" Tien said sternly, his hold on Yamcha's sweaty, trembling hands only tightening.

 

Yamcha's eyes began burning.

 

".. Tien," Yamcha whispered, "I'm just like you."

 

The world muffled to a ringing silence.

 

"If I remained while you gave yourself up," said Yamcha, "what does that make _me?"_

 

Tien's eyes widened, eyes flickering to Yamcha's oddly positioned legs before finding his stare again. Nausea threatened to overtake Yamcha's throat.

 

"I suppose it makes you more than me."

 

Tien let go of his hands, his third eye glistening in the blinding sunshine before he walked off to the plane. Bulma just barely managed to catch Yamcha as he hyperventilated, begging his body not to throw up as Tien blasted off into the sun.

 

* * *

 

"Yamcha, sweetheart, breathe in," Bulma mumbled soothingly as Yamcha shook on the carpet of Kame House. There was nobody else left but him now. Nobody in the world, not his brothers, not his teacher, and certainly not Tien.

 

Tien was who he would have been had he actually managed to kill himself all those years ago.

 

He could see his smirk, hiding in the back of his mind like a silhouette. The cold, reviving feeling of understanding death and accepting the end of each nerve, the color of brain material splattered against dusty ground, finding his own slivers of bone sticking out of his legs at the bottom off the cliff. The image of Tien reverberated.

 

"Fuck's sake-- Launch! Can you _please_ get me some towels?!" Bulma yelled through Yamcha's haze, only just realizing then that he had thrown up on the floor.

 

"Oh-.. Oh my god--" Yamcha cried, desperately wiping his mouth off with his sleeve and feeling a whole new wave of fear and guilt run through him.

 

"Yamcha, you _have_ to relax! Look at me!" Bulma ordered, Yamcha looking at her as bees, _wasps_ flung themselves against his stomach. Bulma had continued her stare for a few moments, his nerves still running haywire as he kept silent. "Tien wouldn't want you like this, baby. Tien would want you to focus on right here."

 

Yamcha's eyes burned, body light as chlorine gas as he felt tears run down his flushed face.

 

"Tien's just like me, Bulma. Tien's gonna kill himself feeling that he never mattered, _just like I did,_ and I di--" Yamcha whimpered, stopping as another wave of severe nausea hit him. He managed to choke the feeling down, crying as he felt like his _own_ death was coming to him.

 

"Hold on, big guy," Launch mumbled gruffly as she walked over with a wet and dry towel, cleaning up the mess with a grimace. "Y'know, Tien's not no ordinary dummy. You _gotta_ give him s'more credit than that," the blonde woman commented, Yamcha's fear suddenly lowering in a wave before rising.

 

".. Anyone who uses the containment attack dies. He's not gonna live past this," Yamcha said weakly, Launch shrugging.

 

"Well, maybe he won't _need_ to use the attack. Who knows? You guys are all weird as hell with pullin' tricks outta'yer asses. All _I_ know is that we won't get _anywhere_ with you pukin' and flippin' your shit like this. Y'hear me?" Launch said, giving a firm yet understanding look.

 

Yamcha's fear, albeit still _very_ present, managed to calm itself down to a knot in his stomach and muscles as Bulma put a hand on his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

Bulma managed to get a radio connection with Tien's plane. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried about this.

 

Yamcha was laying on the couch, oblivious to Bulma's tinkering as he tried to calm his frantic nerves down.

 

"This is Tien Shinhan. What do you need?" Tien said a bit huffily over the radio, Bulma hissing as she plugged in her mic'd headset so Yamcha wouldn't hear. Yamcha didn't need _another_ thing to get him to panic. Suddenly, though, she had an idea.

 

"Tien," Bulma said softly into the mic, "can-... can you, like--.. ugh. Can you say something, like, _anything_ not depressing to Yamcha? He's.. he's.. not doing so well and, well.. you and him are the last ones here."

 

Tien's end was quiet for a moment, the sound of cloth moving in the seat. ".. Bring him over."

 

Bulma got Yamcha's attention and, hesitantly, he walked towards the radio. Bulma unplugged her headset and motioned for him to speak upon noticing Yamcha's worried look. "It's Tien, sweetheart. Just talk and it'll pick it up," Bulma soothed gently.

 

"Uh.." Yamcha started, finding a sad smile creep across his face, "Hi, Tien."

 

Tien cleared his throat. "Knock knock."

 

Yamcha for the first time that day felt an emotion other than severe anxiety-- confusion. He also had lost any ability to speak-- _also_ a first.

 

Tien sighed impatiently. _"Knock knock,_ Yamcha."

 

Yamcha stiffened, suddenly awakening from whatever dazed stupor he was in. "Who's.. who's there?" Yamcha asked, Bulma _very_ unsure of where this was going.

 

"A little old lady," Tien said nonchalantly, the sound of some buttons being pressed on Tien's control panel.

 

".. A little old lady _who?"_ Yamcha asked, completely entranced in whatever the fuck was happening.

 

"Interesting. I didn't know you could yodel," Tien said.

  
  
He suddenly snickered, an odd, genuine laugh that he seemed to be proud of, before turning off the transmission as it fell to static.

 

The room was filled with the sound of waves outside.

 

"I don't get it," Launch said.

 

"I'm gonna kill him. Glad that's settled!" Bulma said deadpan, Yamcha cracking into a shocked, flabbergasted laugh.

 

Tien may have been less of a prick than he was before, but he never _did_ become any less confusing.

 

He kinda liked it, in whatever bittersweet wave this was coming in.

 

And, once Goku managed to, as Launch said it, _'pull a trick out of his ass,'_ Yamcha saw Tien in a much.. _much_ different way.

 

It was like the other side of the same coin for him, and he, for once, was beginning to appreciate it. Not only that, but..

 

He was glad Tien didn't have to give up to be alive.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a normal summer day. King Piccolo was killed, Chiaotzu and Master Roshi were revived, and everything was safe.

 

Yamcha was wandering the desert for old time's sake when Tien appeared in front of him.

 

".. Hey!" Yamcha said, blinking in surprise. Not many people came to visit him outta nowhere-- and _especially_ not the in the form of appearing from thin air.

 

Tien was frowning, looking away. "Good afternoon, Yamcha."

 

Yamcha looked at him a little odd in the sunlight, glancing to Tien's hands. He saw a bundle of some odd, purple bumped flowers in his hands.

 

".. What's up?" Yamcha asked, looking at him calmly. The sun was scorching, the familiar sting of sunburn nearly beginning to burn on Yamcha's skin, but he ignored it with a passing wind.

 

Tien gulped, a rivulet of sweat dripping down the side of his forehead and neck. "I wanted--.. I wanted to.. give this to you. You don't need to.. to _accept_ it. I just want you to know that.. that I'm sorry."

 

He then walked forward, his shoes plopping softly in the sand, and handed the purple flowers to Yamcha. Their hands bumped together for a moment, Yamcha catching his glance. He never saw flowers like this in the desert-- might've been in some gardens in West City, but he could never be sure.

 

He smiled. "It's okay, Tien. Thank you. You have my forgiveness," Yamcha said, holding the flowers quietly to his chest. Tien was.. really, _genuinely_ sorry. No one had ever chased him to apologize before--.. not even Bulma.

 

Tien nodded, still sweating profusely in the heat. "It feels like my words will never be enough.. never _could_ be enough, and neither will those flowers," he trailed off, Yamcha catching shadows in Tien's glance. There was a lot to unpack in _all_ of this-- from the flowers, to how Tien wouldn't look at him, to how _odd_ everything was between them.

 

Yamcha looked down at the flowers once more and found himself grinning. He looked up at Tien, holding the flowers with one hand and another hand held out to him. "Wanna take a walk with me?"

 

Tien's eyes widened in the sunlight.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

"How come you walk funny, Uncle Yamcha?" Gohan asked one day at Kame House, the tender age of three. Chichi immediately shushed him, her eyes flaring from scold to shame as she looked apologetically to Yamcha.

 

"God, I'm sorry-" Chichi started. Yamcha interrupted her softly, smiling.

 

"It's okay. I got in an accident when I was a young man, and my legs didn't heal all the way right. I can still kick your papa's butt, though!" Yamcha said cheerfully, leaning down on his knees to Gohan's height and fingergunning him in confidence. Gohan's eyes lit up.

 

"Wow.. You must be super strong!" Gohan whispered in amazement, Yamcha chuckling and nodding as he sat on the grassy part of Kame House's beach.

 

"Oh, you betch'y'r bottom dollar I am, kid! Look'it _these_ guns!" Yamcha proudly boasted, showing off his, frankly, not-too-bad set of muscles on his arms. Gohan gasped louder in awe as Krillin chuckled from the porch.

 

* * *

 

The sun was setting, the shadows of twilight spilling onto the Lookout. Yamcha found beauty at the curve of the Earth around them-- a finale to their training.

 

Krillin and Chiaotzu were getting changed out of their gis while Tien and Yamcha sat on the cold cement tiles outside. They had been through just about the hardest spar they've ever fought-- the two of them fighting almost as if for their lives-- before they keeled over from exhaustion. A good Senzu Bean brought them back for now, leaving them to think and dream over the resounding dusk.

 

".. I have a confession to make, Yamcha," Tien said, grimacing for not the first time that night as he tried to stretch in his gi shirt.

 

"And that is?" Yamcha said, glancing over at Tien from where he was laying on the ground.

 

"I _despise_ shirts."

 

Yamcha blinked, eyes wide, before breaking into laughter. Tien's face reddened before he piercedly stared at Yamcha.

 

"What's so funny?" he grouched, Yamcha laughing and shaking his head.

 

"That's such a _you_ thing to say, dude. Jesus H.," Yamcha chuckled, wiping his teary eyes.

 

"Well-!" Tien said, throwing his arms up in frustration, "They.. They never fit my shoulders, they _always_ are too tight around my chest, _these_ ones are weighted and heavy, and they just.. they suck!"

 

"Then take it off, y'big crybaby. None of us give a shit," Yamcha said casually, putting his arms behind his head and laying on them. Tien blinked a little, apparently not having thought about that before.

 

".. Is it.. _really_ okay?" Tien shyly asked. Yamcha loudly sighed, rolling his eyes fondly.

 

"Dude, just do it. _Nobody_ cares. I doubt a little bit of _chest_ will kill _anyone_ around here," Yamcha said, waving him off firmly as Tien glanced to his shirt.

  
".. Fine," Tien mumbled, standing up as he moved to take off his shirt.

 

Yamcha watched him for a moment, seeing him struggle with the heavy fabric, before letting a very devious thought come into existence.

 

"Oh, ho," Yamcha snickered, raising a hand to his mouth as if to call to him-- "take it _off!_ Oh, man, look at-" --and breaking into giggles.

 

Tien looked at him quite exhaustedly, but a smile lined his features regardless. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask, _are you serious?_ Yamcha, of course, only hooted and hollered louder. A smile widened on Tien's face before he tossed his poor one-seventy-pound training shirt over his head and let the weight fall to his arms.

 

"Now _that's_ what I call _spicy,_ Tien. Look at that wack ass fuckin' undershirt. Where did you get that, the dumpster?" Yamcha deadpanned. Tien's laughter-- a rarity that Yamcha had become quite fond of hearing-- was vivid as he glanced at the setting sun. Then, without much prompting, Tien stuck his tongue out at Yamcha and dramatically tossed his shirt to the ground. The cement snapped and cracked harshly underneath the weight of the shirt.

 

"Oh, shit, is Tien _strippin'_ over there?!" Krillin yelled from the entrance, his voice echoing in the dusk. Yamcha cracked up with laughter, Tien following him as he covered his red face.

 

"This is _embarrassing,"_ Tien groaned from his hands, Yamcha shrugging as Krillin ran in.

 

"What, _I_ can't see some action around here?" Krillin snickered sarcastically, glancing from Tien to Yamcha. Yamcha snorted.

 

"I mean, if you _wanna_ see a cripple try to dance around a pole, then I'd be glad to oblige," Yamcha said, brushing a tuft of hair behind his ear and wiggling his eyebrows sensually.

 

"I'm not sure if you could, even if your legs _were.._ okay," Tien teased, dancing lightly around his words. Yamcha looked at him, challenge in his eyes.

 

"Are you saying you're a better pole dancer than me, Tien Shinhan? Is that a challenge you're willing to take?" Yamcha said, eyebrows furrowing as Krillin facepalmed.

 

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Krillin laughed nervously, absolutely believing they would do this.

 

Tien grinned in determination, that glimmer of mischief burning in his eyes. "I _certainly_ am a better fighter than you. Who's to say I'm not better at.. _other_ things?-- oh, _wow,_ that sounds kind of inappropriate," Tien muttered, scratching the back of his head as he guiltily looked away.

 

Krillin and Yamcha wailed with laughter.

 

* * *

 

His limbs and hands, even down to the feet if he could've felt them, burned with ki and adrenaline. He'd fuckin' knock these stupid Saiyans off their damned rocker. He remembered the big bald one making a comment about a 'cripple being one of Earth's strongest fighters' and Krillin threatening him with ripping off his neck and shitting down his throat. He swore to God that Tien was trying not to lose his shit at the very severe insult, Piccolo covering Gohan's precious little ears and looking quite taken back from the sudden outburst. Yamcha snickered, waving off the insult. He loved the short little shit.

 

"Well, let this 'cripple' show how it's done, then," Yamcha sniffed, gathering the burning energy in his chest into his fingers and body. The shorter, spiky-haired 'prince' as he had declared, smirked and ordered a green little alien-lookin' thing to step onto the field.

 

Before he did, though, Tien quietly grabbed Yamcha's shoulder. Yamcha looked back questioningly.

 

Tien looked at him in the eyes, soft and.. Yamcha couldn't put his finger on it. Afraid?

 

"..I know you can do it. I _know_ you can," Tien said firmly, gripping Yamcha's shoulder with an almost trembling grip. Yamcha smirked, casually and softly pulling out of his hold.

 

"Y'know, Tien, you always _did_ think too much into shit. Of _course_ I know that!" Yamcha commented, smiling as he shrugged and walked towards the middle of the field. "In fact, I'll _show_ you! I'll even beat this little bitch with two broken legs!" Yamcha joked darkly, Tien snorting guiltily.

 

"Yamcha, that's messed up," Tien responded loudly as Yamcha walked away, finding himself grinning at his soft forgiveness with the joke. Yamcha laughed, his walk jolting as he prepared himself with the alien form across from him.

 

"It was a little, yeah," Yamcha yelled back, snickering.

 

* * *

 

His legs weren't the thing that killed him-- it was his failure of _awareness_ that did.

 

Yamcha had now discovered a new, fleeting moment of knowledge as his body flew apart;

 

Explosions smelt like charcoal, gunpowder, and burning flesh.

 

He heard nothing but a dull roar as the Saibaman exploded in a rush of heat and, without any chance to wait, disappeared into the darkness of whatever came next alone.

 

He tried, tried so hard.

 

* * *

 

Heaven was something safe, something he supposed was alright given that his legs were still the way they were. Training went well, Tien was surprisingly gentle, and they all had a few good cries and fits of anxiety together as they witnessed the fall of Namek. In fact, there was quite a bit of _depth,_ a sense of _deepness_ to just how vibrant the many shades of purple the sky was on King Kai's planet.

 

When he was thrown back to Earth, however, alone and silent, his legs failed to work with him once more. Nearly drowned him in the lake he fell in.

 

All alone, all again.

 

Yamcha had half the mind to drown himself for sport.

 

* * *

 

Bulma had apparently fallen in love with the Saiyan that ended up cutting his life short, and their son was the most beautiful little boy that Yamcha had ever seen.

 

He sighed to himself, kicking his feet over the edge of the cliff that had failed to do its god damned job right the first time.

 

Yamcha stared downwards. No puddle this time, and it was still early afternoon; he couldn't quite kill himself there. Not in the light, not when he could still make rational decision. That was for _nighttime_ fun, right? Two sides of the coin that Yamcha wanted to cash in for good-- but, even so..

 

He lightly kicked his feet over the edge, eyes drooping. He didn't know why he felt this way-- not now, and not in the past, either-- but he.. should _really_ get help for that sometime soon. Death didn't save his soul, but neither was sitting here and wanting to fall again. Hell, he didn't know what he even _wanted_ nowadays, given that death wasn't _really_ the end. Irregardless, it made him curl further into himself and try ignoring the headache that was beginning to spawn in his temples.

 

He had people that, whether he liked it or not, wanted him around.

 

He had Puar. He had his friends-- thankful for even _that,_ Yamcha supposed.

 

He just couldn't understand why he was sent to live when it was very clear he was outran and outdone by fate.

 

All it would've taken was another jump-- and this time, finishing the job. He could do it right now if he wanted to. Or, better yet-- ki blast himself straight through the temples. Efficient, no chance of failure, and no time to think about how other people would feel about finding his corpse!

 

.. Finding him dead.

 

.. No goodbyes, no sorrow, no farewell or apologies.

 

What would he even _say_ to them in such a note, written or verbal?

 

Yamcha's eyes started stinging. He'd miss Bulma. He'd miss Goku and seeing Gohan and Trunks grow up. "I'm sorry, you guys," Yamcha said to them in his head, heart suddenly ripping with guilt and sadness. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this at all. Puar-- Puar fucking _found_ him when he tried to kill himself the first time! He could _never_ do that to her _twice--_ not after how hard she cried and how often she glanced on him in the silence of their apartment. What the _hell was he fucking_ _thinking?!_

 

Then, he remembered.

 

He remembered the moment Tien's plane lifted off after telling him that there was nothing keeping him attached to Earth anymore--

 

the _second_ that Tien told him that his life was just expected to end as a necessary thing.

 

He moved away from the cliffside in a shaky, trembling movement that wasn't entirely at the fault of his mobility. Tripping backwards, he curled into himself on the firm, stable ground and closed his eyes until the shadows of dusk blanketed his body.

 

* * *

 

"Thanks for dinner tonight, Tien. I owe you one," Yamcha said shyly, gently setting his fork down onto his now-empty plate. A few sprigs of lettuce and crumbs still rested on his plate, Yamcha nearly going through the effort of munching them.

 

"You owe me _nothing,_ Bandit. Consider it, ah, _payback_ for your shirt getting all messed up," Tien chuckled, moving to the sink with some dirty dishes.

  
"Give me a _break,_ dude. That spar was, like, fun as hell! I don't give a shit about that shirt anyway," Yamcha snickered as he stretched. Puar floated from her chair and yawned before picking up her dish and putting it in the sink beside Tien.

 

It had been about a month since everyone who was killed by the Saiyans were recovered with the Dragon Balls. Getting separated by life and death wasn't enough to keep Yamcha away from his sparring partner, however, and this was merely one of those nights.

 

"So you're totally fine with me just ripping your shirts to shreds, eh? Maybe there's more to you than I once suspected," Tien teased--the cheeky bastard,-- Yamcha scoffing as he waved him off.

"Oh, yeah, dude. I _totally_ have a kink for you ripping my clothes off. Now, the _real_ question is-- do you have a kink for _buying_ me new clothes? I'd totally let myself be friends-with-benefits with you if that were the case," Yamcha said, acting serious as his grin widened.

 

"Eww," Chiaotzu and Puar childishly echoed in unison, Yamcha breaking into loud laughter.

 

" _Again,_ Yamcha," Tien started loudly, the smile audible in his voice as he began washing dishes, "I believe there's more to you than I once suspected. Thank you for proving me right on that." Yamcha merely chuckled and finger-gunned his figure, making a small 'chk-chk' noise with the back of his tongue and teeth. It's what he does, baby.

 

"You shouldn't be ripping up his clothes so much, though, Tien! He doesn't have a whole lot right now!" Puar said lightly as she floated back to her seat. Cold shame fluttered in the depth of his full stomach, lips pursing. He shushed her quickly, almost scolding as a bit of self-disgust rose up in his cheeks.

 

Tien looked back, pausing his dishwashing. "..What?"

 

Puar suddenly caught Yamcha's heated scold and shrunk back into her seat. "Nothing.. Nothing! I didn't say anything," she said quietly, glancing at the floor. Chiaotzu's eyes ran from Puar to Tien, and Tien's glanced jumped to Yamcha.

 

".. What's the matter?" Tien mouthed to Yamcha, his eyes glowing in a bit of a piercing concern. Yamcha sighed ruggedly and shook his head.

 

"Don't worry about it, okay? We're fine," Yamcha said casually, trying to hide the pain in his chest. It _wasn't_ really all that fine, but.. it was something that was his to carry.

 

"Yamcha, you need to tell me about this. Is something wrong?" Tien firmly asked, turning off the sink and removing his hands from the soapy water. Yamcha tried to focus on Tien's hands, him wiping them off on his pants before crossing them firmly. He shook himself off of the focus and looked off, sighing.

 

".. Puar and I.. like, _may_ be in a _little_ bit of a bind right now. Financially. It's alright, though, we got it--" Yamcha started.

 

"What's the problem? You're.. you're a very adept man. If you came for field work and I didn't know you, I'd hire you in a second," Tien said curiously, eyes not leaving Yamcha's face. Yamcha flushed in shame, inhaling before exhaling in a long-set exhaustion.

 

"Do you know just how _difficult_ it is to get work with two fucked up legs, Tien?" Yamcha started, Puar recoiling and Chiaotzu stiffening at the table. "I could bench press a building if I pleased, but employers don't wanna _hire_ people like me. Disability checks can only pay so much of the bills, and.." Yamcha said quietly, sighing. "It's.. It's been a little rough! But.. but that's _it,_ you get me? We'll be able to get through it like we have before. Like _I_ have before-- I don't want Puar to be affected by my own shit."

 

"No, Yamcha, don't say that!" Puar whispered, her sweet little form floating over to him and hugging him. "You're my best friend, and I'd never leave you!"

 

Yamcha smiled and rubbed her head. "You're a sweet pea, blue-butt, but I still wanna be able to take care'a both of us. Besides," Yamcha said, leaning back to continue talking more to Tien, "I think I may be able to get a little work here and there around town. _Don't worry."_

 

Tien glanced at him, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before glancing at Chiaotzu. Yamcha looked back at Chiaotzu and found him staring concerned at Tien, their gaze not breaking for a solid three, maybe four moments. God damn telepathics and their weird little secrets.

 

Tien lowered his head, his expression passive as he turned around to face the sink and begin washing the dishes again.

 

"I have a queen size bed, and Chiaotzu is more than happy to share his room," he said quietly, the clink of dishes in the sink nearly drowning his voice.

 

Yamcha froze in amazement. There was no fucking way he was serious.. was he?

 

All Tien did was keep washing his stupid dishes.

 

Yamcha blinked in surprise. "No shit," he said, leaning back on an elbow to look at Tien. Tien merely kept washing his dishes. He was dead fuckin' serious about sharin' a room with him. For some reason, Chiaotzu made a really weird noise and Yamcha squinted at him. Tien's assassination attempt on him would've been years late at this point; the hell was Chiaotzu gigglin' at?

 

"Yamcha, it could be just like a sleepover!" Puar happily said, Yamcha shushing her softly. For one, he didn't want it to appear like they _needed_ the housing, and two, it was _definitely_ more than a god damned sleepover. Tien wasn't a sleepover kind of guy. In fact, Tien was fucking _absolutely_ not a physical-closeness kind of guy. _At all._

 

The motherfucker was _offering to share his bed._

 

He was absolutely gonna get murdered with a rusty rake or something and buried in the carrot patch. That, or this was the beginning of a _very_ interesting manga that Bulma liked to read about back in the day.

 

"The offer is yours to decide," Tien said, voice calm and calculated.

 

Yamcha sighed, smiling a little off-kilter in the light of the dining room. Puar took that time to fly to Chiaotzu and talk excitedly with him about having fun movie nights, to which Chiaotzu picked up on fairly quickly.

 

Yamcha chuckled quietly, glancing at Tien. "You're really fine with this?" he said, a soft, clutching feeling in his heart.

 

Tien was inviting him into his life-- into his _bed,_ for Christ's sake. It was.. certainly, _certainly.._

 

oh, it was _somethin'._

 

\--.. and not only that, but..

 

Yamcha felt like a burden. However, the burden.. it was accompanied by some severe stroke of thankfulness that he hadn't felt in a while. It didn't feel like it was a burden to Tien at all, for some reason.

 

Tien turned on the sink to rinse some dishes. "Yes. As long as you are. You are my friend, and.. I will lend you the same hand you lent me all those days ago."

 

Puar happily cheered a 'hooray!' as she flew in small circles, Chiaotzu joining in on her excitement. For some reason under the sun, Yamcha couldn't help the small, shaky grin that began to rise on both cheeks.

 

Home.

 

That sounded awful nice.

 

* * *

 

The sun was beginning to drift downwards as the sky dimmed. Yamcha, sweating in the summer harvest--  in the tomato patch, in fact,-- continued to weed the area about as far as his vision could reach until he simply was guessing where the weeds are. He stood up shakily, stretching as the crickets in the fields around him continued to echo.

 

"Yamcha, I think we're about done for the day," Tien called out from a ways away, all the way down in the sweet potato patch. Yamcha heard Chiaotzu add, "Yeah, I'm worn out. Let's go inside!"

 

Yamcha nodded before realizing they probably couldn't see it. "Alrighty, I heard ya," he called out, his voice echoing through the farmland. He began moving, his legs nearly giving out as he tried climbing uphill. Stupid damn bones.

 

"Need a hand?" Tien yelled from afar, Yamcha shaking his head.

 

"Nah," Yamcha yelled, taking a minute to finally get up the hill. "I'm good. Thank you, though."

 

He heard Puar giggling about something as he rounded closer to the three, sweat sliding down his forehead. Farm work wasn't easy, but it sure was nice to have three best friends helpin' y' do it.

 

"Good work today, Yamcha. You and Puar pick up farmhand work pretty quickly," Tien said, a firm smile on his face. Yamcha waved him off bashfully.

 

"C'mon, dummy, of _course_ we rock the house! Don't we, Puar?" Yamcha said pridefully, Puar yipping happily in agreement. Tien chuckled as his voice melded with the cicadas. The fields behind them hummed with the life of insects and wind.

 

"I'm thinking about making beef stew with rice tonight!" Chiaotzu yelled from the house's front porch door, "Does that sound okay?"

 

Tien looked back at Puar and Yamcha for their silent yay or nay, to which both of them were quite okay with dinner's choice that night. "Sure!" Tien yelled back.

 

"Okay!" Chiaotzu yelled, the hollow clack of a screen door closing echoing through the dusky field.

 

"Can we listen to the radio during dinner, Tien?" Puar asked gently, floating around Tien's walking form.

 

"Of course you can, Puar. You can do whatever you want; we're roommates, but this is _your_ house too, after all," Tien said, voice firm and sure as he stepped onto the front porch. "I have no intention of controlling either of you." Puar cheered happily and floated quickly into the house, her silhouette making a quick flash to the kitchen table where the radio was.

 

Yamcha chuckled, following Tien in as he held the wooden front door open.

 

* * *

 

Yamcha continued to watch the sun dip into the horizon line from the back porch, Tien sitting on a step a few feet away from him. The wind was a little scorching, passing them by in a warm ruffle as Yamcha huffed on a cigarette. The smoke drifted to his left as he exhaled.

 

The night appeared to want to rain, gray-violet clouds expanding above them and only leaving a small amount of room for the sun to show through. Every once in a while, Yamcha thought he felt rain droplets hit his forehead, but when he went to wipe them away, he found nothing.

 

"It's beautiful tonight," Tien commented quietly, Yamcha nodding with an affirmative noise.

 

"You're right about that, man. All day workin' and then seein' this.. kinda makes it worthwhile," Yamcha replied, smiling a little softly as he finished smoking his cigarette. All things considered, their lives were a rapidly changing mess. They could be plowing fields one day and then preparing for a god damned death battle the next; consistently uprooting their lives for the sake of the Earth was something disgustingly too common for them. Now, though, _tonight--_ tonight, they were safe. Tonight, all they needed to look forward to was themselves and what dinner was going to be. Yamcha found himself glancing at Tien and noticing the little things.

 

Tien had a bit of a hard look about him-- sure, it could very easily be twisted to malice, but nowadays it tended to be quite.. serious. Serious, certain, if a little _declared._ He was _far_ more expressive in his youth, as Yamcha remembered quite vividly, but.. there was never happiness. There was never safety, never calm in those times with Tao and Shen.

 

If it meant that he wasn't as expressive, Yamcha would take _this_ Tien over the one in those blinding sunlit days _any_ day.

 

".. Tien."

 

"Hmm?" Tien responded, glancing at him.

 

"Thank you for letting me and Puar live with you."

 

Tien looked away, his face controlled in the gentle, passive expression he tended to use. "It's my pleasure, Yamcha."

 

Yamcha blinked, finding himself twiddling his thumbs. There was something in the depth of his chest that he didn't quite understand, but he felt like it involved the Tien of the past.

 

Rain began to platter against the grass and cement porch like drops of dusk.

 

He wished he could've protected that younger Tien more.

 

* * *

 

"Nice place y'got here, you guys!" Krillin said, obvious that he was pretty satisfied. "Wish I could have a place of my own at this point, ha!"

 

"Yeah! Everythin' works out pretty well, to be honest!" Yamcha said, smiling wide as he floated with Krillin and 'inspected' the house. Puar and Chiaotzu were talking excitedly with Bulma about something on the porch while Tien was setting up lunch in the kitchen. The summer wind was hot and gusty, sun shining as the two chit chatted about life.

 

"Do you two get along? You and Tien, Chiaotzu and Puar, the whole nine yards?" Krillin asked, Yamcha brushing a stray strand of hair back behind his ear.

 

"Well, yeah!" Yamcha said, voice sure. "I mean, sometimes we get a little bickery, but.. overall, it's not like the other roommates I've had before. Chiaotzu's really chill and keen to go with the flow-- not that I really disagree with him much on stuff,-- and Tien and I just tend to get along. Not much room for fighting, y'know?"

 

"Damn. Nice set-up, dude," Krillin said, whistling. "Not many people can pull that shit off with a buddy. Sometimes, I end up wantin' to clock the shit outta Goku or Roshi-- but.. I _do_ love them, you get me? Sorta like cabin fever or somethin'."

 

Yamcha nodded and said, "Yeah, I getcha. Honestly, I'm not really sure why I'm as.. I don't know, _chill_ with this as I am." He then leaned in, glancing from side to side. "Dude, I've gotten into more fights with _Bulma_ back in the day than I have with Tien at this point!" he whispered quietly, surprised at that fact.

 

Krillin snickered. "Well, I mean, Bulma's pretty easy to piss off, not gonna lie. My _big_ question is why you're comparing Tien to Bulma, if you get me," Krillin said slyly, raising an eyebrow and grinning as Yamcha swatted at him.

 

"Oh, shut the hell up. It ain't _like_ that," Yamcha chuckled, Krillin swatting his hand back.

 

"Not for now, it ain't. Just you wait, knucklehead, and Cupid'll hit'ya!" Krillin teased, floating down to the ground and pretending to shoot an arrow. Yamcha rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to kick him.

 

 _"What_ ain't it like?'" Bulma asked them from the porch, Puar and Chiaotzu looking at the two of them curiously.

 

"Nothin', nothin'," Krillin chuckled warm heartedly, Yamcha thanking any nonexistent God that Krillin's 'sparing' him for now. "What're _you_ guys talkin' about?"

 

"Nothin', really. Puar's tellin' me how much she likes playing with the frogs down by the creek around here," Bulma said. Puar heard this and lept up, her childlike glee spilling over into her sunshine-bright smile.

 

"Yeah! You remember, don'tchyou, Yamcha?" Puar squeaked, Yamcha chuckling and nodding.

 

"Uh-huh! She found it there one day during lunch and spent at _least_ half a day playin' with em. Haven't been able to tear her back since!" Yamcha said, Bulma giggling in amusement.

 

"What about you? Have you gone down there?" Bulma asked.

 

"Uh," Yamcha said, moving to scratch the back of his head, "I tried going down there once but had a little trouble climbin' back out. Had to fly my dumbass outta' there."

 

"Oh," Bulma said, understanding, "I getcha. Is it, like, super rocky down there?"

 

"Rocky enough, plus a huge-ass hill to climb up. Not so fun comin' through," Yamcha admitted, laughing shyly as Krillin elbowed him lightly.

 

"Eh, don't worry 'bout it, dummy. I'm sure Puar has more than enough stories to tell, right, buddy?" Krillin said, asking Puar with a friendly grin.

 

"Sure do!" Puar started, her slight frown from the aforementioned topic brightening to a sunshine-light grin. "Yamcha's heard all'a them!"

 

"Lunch is ready when you all are," Tien called from the kitchen, Bulma perking up.

 

"Oo, food! _Please_ tell me you guys didn't make sauerkraut," Bulma whined, sitting and stretching before entering the house.

 

"No promises. I saw Tien bringin' in some jars of cabbage from the cellar," Yamcha said, snickering at Bulma's resulting groan of disgust.

 

* * *

 

Yamcha's alarm-- _their_ alarm, for the most part-- went off at around 5:15 A.M as usual. Also per usual was Tien's complete vacancy from the bed. He always, _always_ was gone by, like, 4:10 at the absolute latest. In the utter bleariness and blur that comes from awakening, Yamcha smelled the bitter, reviving smell of coffee. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

 

He had about a good fifteen minutes to think over his life once again in the shower, a vital part of his morning routine. Honey scented shampoo-- his favorite-- tried and failed to detangle his wild mess of hair as he rolled his eyes. Yamcha groaned in annoyance, resisting the urge to kick his foot into the shower wall.

 

When Yamcha came out of the shower in sweatpants and a t-shirt-- normal morning attire, all things considered,-- he didn't expect to see Tien sitting at the dining table. He looked pretty dazed, tired, even-- which was pretty damn weird. The man _never_ looked off-kilter when it came to waking up. The soft light of the dining room was a bright, burning beacon against the indigo of morning that flooded the house. Tien looked.. somber, perking when noticing Yamcha's presence.

 

".. Good morning, Yamcha," Tien said quietly, voice a bit croaky.

 

"Howdy, Tien," Yamcha replied, blinking in the dark. ".. What's up with you?"

 

There were a few cups of coffee on the table, two of them already dranken. "Puar seemed to have gotten sick around midnight, so I helped clean her and her little catbed up," Tien said, rubbing his third eye a little blindly.

 

"She's sick..?! Is she alright?" Yamcha suddenly asked, concern filling his voice. Tien immediately waved him off, however.

 

"She's fine, don't worry. I gave her some Ibuprofen and stayed with her until she fell asleep, the poor thing, but she's _fine._ I suspect she might have a case of the flu," Tien reassured. Yamcha sighed, rubbing his head lightly.

 

"I'll take her to the vet today-- hopefully, _they'll_ be able to give her somethin'. Poor Puar-bear," Yamcha dismally commented, wishing he could make her feel better.

 

Tien's chair scraped quietly as he stood up, stretching lightly in the cold morning air. "If you want to take her in today, that's fine. There isn't a whole lot to do, and I know Chiaotzu and I could take care of it on our own," he said, yawning.

 

".. I should," Yamcha trailed off hesitantly, a part of him fearing that he was 'missing work,' but a stern look from Tien shook the thought off.

 

"Yamcha, go help Puar. It's fine." Tien said, his passive look sharpening his features. "This isn't a _work-housing_ situation; don't feel _pressured_ into doing things all for the sake of the farm."

 

The knot in Yamcha's stomach loosened at that, the dull pang of anxiety withering to nothing. "You're right. We're.. we're just a couple'a best friends livin' together."

 

Tien smiled in in the morning light fondly and closed his eyes. _"Exactly._ A couple of best friends and their two sibling-children," he smiled, chuckling.

 

"I'm not a little kid! I'm nearly _your_ age," Chiaotzu said tiredly, floating in from the hallway as Yamcha laughed.

 

"Oh! Good morning, Chiaotzu. Sleep well?" Tien said as he played dumb. His genuine, silly smile nearly made Yamcha snort.

 

"Oh, don't give me that, you stinker!" Chiaotzu barked, Tien laughing as he covered his head with his hands.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Tien giggled, Yamcha joining in before getting up and going to the coffee pot. A peek out of their kitchen window showed the slightest of periwinkles-- a morning ready to be seized. As he poured his coffee out, the sharp smell of Folgers cut through the odd haze of fresh air.

 

"You two want a cup?" Yamcha snickered, looking behind him at Tien and Chiaotzu chittering over their previous 'argument.' Chiaotzu rubbed his eyes, dramatically huffing and frowning as he turned away from Tien.

 

"No thanks-- but put _salt_ in _his,_ Yamcha," Chiaotzu grumbled jokingly.

 

"No way! That sounds horrid," Tien barked back in concern, giggles rising in his voice.

 

"You're gonna wake _Puar_ up with all that yellin'! Shushie!" Chiaotzu hissed, Tien stunned before shrinking into himself.

 

"Whoops. Sorry, I forgot," Tien whispered. Chiaotzu rolled his eyes and shook his head fondly.

 

Yamcha saw his own smile reflect back at him as he poured coffee into Tien's mug.

 

* * *

 

" 'Comin to bed early, man?" Yamcha mumbled a bit tiredly, shrugging himself up on his elbows. Tien smiled softly, his grin wrinkling in the dim late-dusk shadow.

 

"Yes, I am," Tien said, gently setting his clothes for the next morning on their dresser across the room. "It's been... one hell of a day, I'm sure you know. Calling up the Cartens for more supplies has been a bit of a hassle."

 

"What happened?" Yamcha asked, blinking out the small bits of sleep in his mind as Tien took his shirt off.

 

"They, uh-" Tien said casually, tossing his t-shirt to the floor and sliding his nightshirt on, "they told me last week, y'know, 'nice to see you,' yadda yadda, but they were out of stock for the radish seeds I usually buy and _said_ that they'd have them this week."

 

"Uh huh?" Yamcha said, flicking on a lamp on his bedside.

 

"So I gave them a call, and of _course_ they don't have them!" Tien said, his voice lined with a soft frustration that Yamcha knows will not escalate. Yamcha frowned.

 

"Seriously?"

  
  
"Yeah!" Tien said, raising his hands as if unsure what to do. "I _knew_ I should've bought them earlier, but.. ugh." He flopped his arms up in frustration before slipping into bed, pulling up the covers further. "I wish they'd _get_ them already. We don't have all year to get them planted."

 

Yamcha smiled softly, bittersweet at his partner's turmoil. "Hey, c'mon, big guy," Yamcha reassured, patting Tien's shoulder gently as he rolled to face him. "We'll be alright. Besides, if we need a little bit of extra cash, I'm sure I can try to swing some labor work around."  
  
Tien frowned a little before a smirk bloomed. "I don't want you going into drug deals for our farm, Yamcha."

Yamcha smacked his arm before giggling. "You shut your mouth, mister," he snickered sarcastically, "you _know_ I'm not into that anymore. _God."_

 

"Prostitution doesn't count, either," Tien smirked. Yamcha squinted, cheeks reddening in the lamplight. He smacked his bicep again, Tien chuckling.

 

"Be nice to your housemate, _partner._ I could just, uh.. I don't know, work as some truck driver and _ditch_ this _popsicle stand,"_ Yamcha jokingly huffed, rolling over to face the bedside dramatically. Tien grinned lopsidedly, folding his arms behind him and laying his head on them.

 

"You wouldn't leave me that easy, wouldj'a?" Tien asked quietly, glancing over at Yamcha's form. Yamcha turned around a little, a light smirk on his face.

 

"Keep up that attitude and maybe I'll consider it," Yamcha joked, his eyes finding Tien's in the warm light.

 

Tien's eyes were soft.

 

He could _never_ leave him _that_ easy.

 

"Goodnight, Yamcha," Tien said, voice gentle.

 

Yamcha smiled back, an utterly satisfied grin as he moved to turn off the lamp. "Goodnight, Tien."

 

* * *

 

"Fuck, _fuck,"_ Yamcha painfully moaned from the bottom of the steep, grassy hill. "Tien! I need some help!"

 

The agony was scratched all over his body in divots of dark maroon. His body shook, the adrenaline rushing through his system, as he tried to take a mental recount of where he was hurt. He knew he fell on a good portion of the kindling, but _fuck,_ it felt like he at _least_ had a good thorn somewhere near his inner thigh. Would've been nice if he could fucking _tell_ where it _was!_

 

"Yamcha!" Tien exclaimed from the top of the hill, Yamcha squinting his eyes open to see his form descend from the steep hill. "God damnit, what happened?!" he gasped, kneeling and quickly tossing kindling far off from Yamcha's body.

 

"Carried too much and my legs buckled-- _ouch,_ fucking _Christ,"_ Yamcha groaned. The warmth of blood was staining his clothes, and he was scared. He could've fuckin' broke his _neck_ tumbling downhill-- why didn't he _think_ about this more--

 

"Hold on-- hold on, okay? Give me just a-- _Chiaotzu, come here!_ \-- give me just a second. Let me get some of this off you," Tien worriedly mumbled as his hands went to work at sitting him up. His back stinged harshly with pain-- apparently some large twigs making their residence there. Tien pulled them with the gentleness of cattails before tossing them meanly to the side, sighing guiltily. Yamcha could only catch his breath, closing his eyes tiredly in the near-dusk.

 

"What's the-- oh, _crap!_ First aid kit?!" Chiaotzu yelled from atop the hill as Yamcha managed to gather a shivering smile at him.

 

"Yes, please!" Tien yelled back, Yamcha noticing the line of fear in his voice and sadly grinning. It was all his own fault.

 

"I'm sorry," Yamcha gulped tiredly, the adrenaline leaving him exhausted with shakes. Tien's head dropped as he shook it very quickly.

 

"Don't pull that on me, Yamcha. I shouldn't have asked you to do that for me," Tien said as he brushed more stick fragments off of Yamcha. Yamcha had hissed with pain, Tien's fingers stiffening somewhere over his leg.

 

In a moment of silence, Tien's eyes drooped. He placed his hand feather-light over the top of his leg, letting the cuts from underneath slide his fingers with hues of blood. Goosebumps found themselves prickling up Yamcha's legs and arms as he closed his eyes, leaning into his chest.

 

"It was just fuckin' _twigs,_ Tien. I should've been.. I should've been able to _do_ that, no sweat," Yamcha mumbled tiredly as his disappointment rang clear. Tien grimaced and shook his head once more.

 

"I told you to stop saying things like that. You're making a molehill out of a _mountain,_ you know," Tien said. Yamcha found a snicker rising out of his throat.

 

"You mean a _mountain_ out of a _mole-"_

 

"No. No, I _know_ what I said, and I _meant_ it, Yamcha," Tien argued, "You didn't _fall_ because of the twigs. You fell because of something you can't control-- and you don't _deserve_ to blame yourself like that."

 

Yamcha bitterly grinned, for some reason his mindset wandering; "Oh, well, I _did_ control it, once. It _was_ my fault, after all-"

 

"But-- but that-- that was _different,_ you--"

 

"It really _wasn't,_ Tien."

 

"We got a kit, guys!" Chiaotzu yelled from above them, levitating and dropping down by them. Yamcha's bitter look-- to him or to life as a whole, Tien wasn't sure,-- dissipated as Chiaotzu opened the box, red cross and all.

 

Yamcha sighed, eyes glazing off to some unknown memories as Tien and Chiaotzu helped apply bandages.

 

When they had finished cleaning up the multitude of Yamcha's minor wounds, Tien lifted him up and carried him, levitating up and over the steep hill. Chiaotzu had flown ahead, reassuring a very worried Puar that Yamcha was gonna be alright, while Yamcha held onto Tien's shirt.

 

Tien frowned as he looked down at Yamcha, the sunset brightening his dismal features. His eyes were closed in pain, scratches covering his cheeks and head. A twig stuck out of his hair.

 

Yamcha realized he was being looked at and smiled. "I look like a wreck and a half, don't I?" he deadpanned. Tien smiled sadly, chuckling as he opened the front porch door.

 

"You look _fine,_ Bandit," Tien said, Puar and Chiaotzu noticing their entry and flying over to them.

 

"Yamcha! Are you okay?" Puar squeaked sadly, Yamcha's lips curling up.

 

"You're sweet. Yes, I'm alright. 'Just gonna lay down for a while is all," Yamcha reassured as he petted her fuzzy blue head. Puar purred, but her expression was still solumn.

 

"He need some painkillers?" Chiaotzu asked Tien quietly, Tien weighing the options.

 

"Eh.. Yeah. If you could, get him a glass of water, too. I'll be taking him upstairs."

 

Chiaotzu nodded and said, "Got it," before flying off to their medicine cabinet in the kitchen. Puar followed Chiaotzu, leaving Tien to carry Yamcha upstairs.

 

The wooden stairsteps creaked under Tien's feet. Yamcha sighed as Tien opened the door and closed it behind him.

 

"I feel like an idiot," Yamcha mumbled as Tien laid him on the bed.

 

"You're not. I've gotten whacked with a shovel that fell down in one of my old sheds-- believe me, _you're not,"_ Tien chuckled, Yamcha gasping in shock.

 

"No fucking shit! How come _I_ didn't hear about this?!" Yamcha loudly said, giggling as Tien followed with laughter.

 

"One, it was a tiny job before the Saiyans came, and two, _I was embarrassed._ Left a giant bruise on me, too," Tien sighed, chuckling at the memory of it. Yamcha grinned, his teeth showing with a genuine smile.

 

"Well, _nice!_ I guess I'm now welcome to the dipshit-farming-injury club," Yamcha snickered as Tien pulled up the blankets and draped it over him.

 

"Of course. Membership includes overall disappointment and a free sundae on your birthday," Tien smiled, his voice softening as he watched Yamcha in the bed. The night was slowly beginning to set in, and twilight was tinting their room with dark red and slivers of purple. Yamcha gave him a lopsided grin.

 

"You _know_ I'll take you up on that offer, Shinhan," Yamcha said, amused. Tien nodded jokingly, waving him off as he moved to leave the room.

 

"Yeah, yeah. I'll bring dinner up for you," Tien said, a foot out the door--

 

"Wait," Yamcha interrupted.

 

Tien turned back to face him.

 

Yamcha looked at him before his glance flickered elsewhere. He shuffled his hands, interlacing them together with the other, before looking at Tien's shoes.

 

"Thanks for helping me."

 

Tien's heart fluttered.

 

In his endless, infinite wisdom, Tien coughed, nodded, and walked out of the room.

 

What an absolute _killer._

 

* * *

 

"Stay safe, okay?" Tien warned, his voice a bit sharp, piercing, "Those two androids are nothing to play with."

 

"I know. Follow your own advice, too. Stay safe for me and Chiaotzu," Yamcha replied.

 

Tien levitated into the air, their last-second safety conversation ending. "Good luck, thief," he said, nodding silently. Their exploration of the large city was sure to not end well, yet.. they didn't have a choice.

 

Yamcha gazed back, eyes firm with resolve. "You too."

 

Tien blasted off in the opposite direction.

 

The image of Yamcha's stare, irises dark as smoke, wouldn't leave the back of his eyelids.

 

* * *

 

Tien knew that something was wrong when the explosion rang throughout the city.

 

It was a fleeting, _bad_ feeling, one that he was far too familiar with.

 

He flew in the direction of a descending power level, one with a ki signature that could only be identified as dusk.

 

He faintly smelled the burning of gasoline, the choke of black fumes as he sped as fast as he could to the explosion. Smoke covered Tien's vision from the angle he was flying in, so he managed to turn himself around and land. His chest was wavering in the sorrow and horror that he _knew_ was waiting for him.

 

Heart leaping to his throat, Tien saw Yamcha cruelly impaled via some horrifically strong, made-by-metal arm. His vision hazed as he saw blood, some dark red flesh or organ material splattered on the pavement beneath.

 

Yamcha's chest failed to rise, a muscular spasm ripping through his torso every few slow moments.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Tien would guess that Yamcha had been hit in the lungs and heart somehow. There was no way he could have lived--

 

so lifeless, his body was--

 

the way his legs and body lay hanging,

 

the emptiness of death that was surely in the depths of Yamcha's dark, dark eyes.

 

Cicada shell-deep was as far as the life Yamcha had, now.

 

Tien choked back the urge to cry, swallowing spit down his parched throat as he stared off the metallic alternates of life.

 

He fucking _failed_ him _._

 

* * *

 

"Yamcha," Tien breathed, shocked at seeing him still alive and standing in front of him. Yamcha faced him, eyes wide. His gi had a very, _very_ large hole at the front of it.

 

"Oh, hey!" Yamcha said, eyebrows up as he saw Tien, ".. Are you okay?"

 

Tien only realized then that he was trembling, fingers clenched to the palm. His skin was covered with a cold sweat that hadn't shook off for about an hour.

 

No, he really wasn't.

 

".. Are.. are _you_ okay?" Tien said, voice nearly cracking under the weight of his own fear.

 

Yamcha's eyes still had remnants of a frantic feeling, his skin ashen. "Uh," he said, "I'm, like, _alive,_ if that's what you mean. I'm a little shaken, but, yeah! I'm okay."

 

Tien's heart wouldn't stop pounding.

 

Yamcha frowned, eyes filled with concern. "Dude, you look like a fuckin' _wreck._ I.. it wasn't-.. did anything happen on the way here?" he asked, Tien unable to shake off the afterimage of Yamcha's perceived death.

 

 _"You_ happened. I.. your chest-- and--" Tien gulped, Yamcha gently touching his shoulders and stiffening at how visibly he was shaking.

 

"Sit down," Yamcha said, eyes not leaving Tien's as he forced him to sit on the Lookout's cement ground. Tien began feeling lightheaded, the dizzy feeling of Yamcha's concern burning as hard as fluorescent lights.

 

The pressure of death was weighing on him more than intended. It was starting to really fuck with his head at this point.

 

Yamcha sat in front of him, shaking his shoulders gently as Tien's attention kept fluttering elsewhere. "Come on, dude. I'm right here, okay? We're good," he tried to reason. Tien kept trying hard not to flip his shit.

 

".. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just-- I don't.. I don't feel right. I don't," Tien muttered halfheartedly.  Yamcha's eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 

"It's okay, buddy. You just need to take it easy for a bit. That's all," Yamcha said gently, moving to hug Tien tight. He hugged Yamcha back, closing his eyes at the chilling feeling that kept running up his stomach.

 

* * *

 

It was late as the TV in Kame House's living room ran with static.

 

Yamcha and Krillin were asleep in their futons, the soft sounds of their breathing quite comforting to Tien. In the end, though, the blessing of sleep just wasn't god damn coming. This whole 'android' shit was taking a toll on him in just about every aspect. The purple haired kid was correct on quite a few things-- Tien was now full heartedly believing in the concept of sci-fi. That said, there were things he was _wrong_ about.

 

He never fucking said anything about Yamcha getting nearly murdered in a fiery, choking death.

 

Tien sighed and flopped onto his stomach, exhausted of thinking.

 

Suddenly, though, Tien's attention perked. There was a soft noise that had gone above the dull static of the television, but had gone away as quickly as it had appeared. Tien looked over to his partners and found no response, both Yamcha and Krillin faced away.

 

"Imagination. Maybe I am more tired than I thought," Tien mused quietly, blinking in the dark of the room.

 

Suddenly, the voice picked up.

 

It was a soft, fearful groan. Yamcha shuffled in his futon, Tien suddenly stiffening. Was he alright?

 

Yamcha suddenly rolled over, his eyelids fluttering and shoulders twitching. He was mouthing something, suddenly an expression of fear flashing across his face. He once more made a noise, this time a little louder as his face contorted into pain. His legs and arms very gently twitched, Yamcha's head moving in short, sporadic bursts. Eyebrows furrowing, Tien sat up on his elbows as concern filled his chest.

 

"Hna.. H.." Yamcha had slurred, his voice incoherent as his noises became whimpers. His face was pale, breathing sharp and unstable.

 

Tien watched this, eyes not leaving his figure as he nervously breathed in. "Yamcha. Yamcha, wake up," he said, gently moving a hand to rub his shoulder.

 

Yamcha's body shook violently before he gasped, bursting to life. "H- They're over here! I'm--" Yamcha yelled, body shaking as he covered himself fearfully with his blanket.

 

"Yamcha," Tien gasped--

 

"He's over here, guys! They're over here! Please, help!" Yamcha cried into his pillow, Krillin startledly sitting up at the noise. Tien's heart went cold at realizing just what he was dreaming about.

 

"Yamcha, hey," Tien said softly, placing his hands firmly on the shoulder-lumps in Yamcha's futon, "you're at Kame House. You're here. We're right here."

 

Yamcha's head peeked out of the blanket, his dark eyes wet with tears and blurred with lack of awakening. "But-- but, no, I was... They found me again, Tien, they-- they were-- they were gonna kill me and--... and no one--.." Yamcha trailed off, his breaths slowly evening out as his adrenaline ran thinner. His ashy hands shook harshly as he held the blanket.

 

Suddenly, his face flushed red with shame.

 

"No one heard me, Tien," Yamcha weakly said. Tien immediately scooped him up and held him tightly. A sob erupted from his throat as Yamcha covered his face in embarrassment. "Nobody heard me. No one. I was--.. I tried yelling louder, but.."

 

Tien's guilt was buried harshly in his heart. He had fucking _failed_ him _entirely._ "I hear you, Yamcha. They won't get ahold of you ever again. You're safe," he tried to soothe pathetically, mumbling as Yamcha's cold, sweaty body shook and clung to Tien's nightshirt.

 

Krillin wiped his forehead, Tien nearly forgetting that he was awakened by Yamcha's screaming. ".. Nightmare, huh..? Those always fuckin' _suck,_ buddy. I'm sorry," Krillin muttered, moving over to hug the shaking body in Tien's arms. "He's right, you know. We aren't gonna let that shit happen _twice,_ alright?"

 

Yamcha gulped, trying to stop hiccuping in his sobs, and nodded. He sniffled before breaking once more and crying into Tien's chest. Tien held him tightly, gently shushing him. Krillin blinked in concern, the haze of sleep not leaving his eyes, before he stood up and padded his feet to a storage closet.

 

"What's wrong, boys?" Master Roshi's voice dully echoed from upstairs, Tien closing his eyes softly.

 

"Yamcha had a nightmare," Tien yelled back, a hand finding its way into stroking Yamcha's back.

 

"I'm sorry. I'm so.. I'm fucking sorry. I'm so embarrassing, I'm a grown-ass man--" Yamcha sobbed--

 

"You _are,_ Yamcha. You're a grown man who went through some horrible shit-- and it's some horrible shit we won't let happen twice," Tien interrupted, trying hard to speak over Yamcha's sobs without letting his own internalized sadness show. Yamcha could only grit his teeth and tremble into his chest.

 

"Please don't let them get me again, Tien."

 

Before Tien realized how far he'd go to protect him, Krillin had come back with another blanket, gently draping it over Yamcha's trembling body. "Don't you worry, buddy. We got you covered," he reassured, Yamcha blinking tearily at Krillin.

 

"Thank you," he warbled emotionally, Krillin patting his head with a small, calloused hand.

 

"Hey, don't sweat it. It's what we do. Believe you and me, you are _not_ alone in this department," Krillin chuckled dryly, Tien finding himself agreeing. He was surprised the lot of them haven't already ended up in therapy from the violence and stress they've had to witness over the course of their lives.

 

Yamcha made a soft, agreeing noise before burying himself back into Tien's arms, sniffling weakly. Tien's mind hazed to a dull, protective rumble. He kept him close, to most outsiders Tien holding a blanket pile, as his focus continued on the man in his arms. "Shh-ch-ch," he soothed quietly.

 

"You got it covered, you two?" Roshi asked from the stairway, Krillin looking over as Tien carefully watched Yamcha.

 

"Yeah, we're good. Thanks, old man," Krillin said, smirking lightly.

 

"You're lucky I'm too old to kick ass at-- what, one-o-seven in the morning, Krillin," Roshi badgered as he went slowly back upstairs, Krillin chuckling in amusement. A muffled laugh came from Yamcha, Tien able to see a smile upturned on his lips. Tien grinned.

 

It was calm in the dark for a bit, the only soft noises being the waves outside. The moon wasn't full this time of the month-- maybe a bad omen for things to come, but Tien couldn't tell. Nothing made much sense anymore, really, and it hadn't since Trunks had popped up with the proclamation of the future.

 

Krillin watched the still form of Yamcha. "It's been a long time since we've been in a real, _real_ bind like this."

 

Tien blinked quietly in the darkness. It was true-- Frieza wasn't on Earth, although the risk was still quite valid that he could travel there if need be. Cell, the androids, and the entire game of chess that incorporated those three, was something _far_ beyond a mere game of 'beat the baddie.'

 

Tien wasn't used to not being in control like this.

 

Suddenly, Krillin snickered in the darkness. "Y'got hit in the chest, right, Yamcha? All we need now is Tien to get a foot through the nuts and we'll have our very own survived-impalement-fighter-team," he chuckled, knowing how _bad_ of a joke that was. Yamcha, however, began laughing in the blankets.

 

"Too soon, Krillin. I'm so fuckin'-" Yamcha started before breaking into more laughter. Tien and Krillin joined in, Tien shaking his head at the quite-bad joke. It lightened the mood, which everyone appreciated.

 

Krillin was irreplaceable, and Tien couldn't be more thankful that at least _he_ knew what to do to cheer Yamcha up.

 

The waves continued to roll in the sweet, quiet silence. _This_ place-- the dark safety of Kame House's living room-- was its own little world. No one could come in, no one could hurt-- and there was _nobody_ to tell them otherwise.

 

In the end, though, Tien began to wonder; in the one in a million chance he had of being born and ending up this way, how many more chances would he get to _love_ this world? This would now be the third time that the Earth was in danger of succumbing to some incarnation of evil, literally or metaphorically. Was this their last straw?

 

Tien sighed. No use thinking about statistics in a world where he and his group of friends existed.

 

He just needed to protect the ones he loved, if he had to guess. The futility of life-- even _without_ the aid of monsters coming to break the world apart-- was something that Tien always knew of. Even something as basic as the human flu could slowly but surely send a human's consciousness to Heaven and their body into autolysis. Every once in a while, Tien wished that he could just.. enjoy life.

 

The farm was one of the few things he really got a kick out of nowadays-- before the existence of Cell. As simple a lifestyle as one could get out of Earth, Tien was satisfied with the few people he truly, completely _loved_ and the common tasks to repeat _._ And, more than that,

 

Tien was not unaware of the feeling he got around Yamcha. He knew.

 

"Y'know, I don't remember the last time I've seen.. _y'know_ ," Krillin said with an upturned smile, his voice fond and gesturing to Yamcha's sleeping form. Tien was startled out of his thoughts for the moment, eyebrows raising.

 

".. What do you mean?" Tien asked, voice a gentle rumble so he wouldn't wake Yamcha.

 

Krillin snickered and shook his head tiredly. "What do _you_ mean? _Look_ at'im."

 

Tien felt a warm feeling sprout back up in his heart.

 

.. He had known for quite a long time that something was different about the sandy bandit.

 

Krillin stretched, yawning and effectively ending the conversation. "I'm gonna go use the restroom. If I don't come back in five minutes, assume that I fell in and call the authorities."

 

Tien chuckled quietly. "Yeah. I'll be sure to call the cops to an island in the middle of the ocean," he replied softly as Krillin walked to the restroom, Krillin mumbling back some response that Tien didn't catch. He smiled-- even in a doomsday, he could count on _something_ in this world to make him keep coming back.

 

Tien noticed as he shifted in his sitting position, however, that Yamcha had become quite still in his arms. His cheeks suddenly warmed as he glanced downwards.

 

Yamcha had fallen asleep, his breathing soft and far more stable than it had been that night. His eyes were still puffy, his hair still quite a spiky, tear-streaked mess, but he was.. still him. He was the same man Tien had lived with, had harmed, had seen the sun and seen death with.

 

Yamcha would _always_ just be Yamcha,

 

and that was more than okay.

 

Tien had softly leaned down and found himself pressing his lips-- butterfly light-- to the top of Yamcha's head. He remained for a few moments, his heart giving in as he rested his head at the top of Yamcha's. The spikes, almost a bit callous but in its own way soft against his cheek, found itself uncomfortably pricking him for a few moments, but Tien closed his eyes.

 

In a way, Tien found himself dreaming. He didn't know the warm ache that smouldered like ashes in the depths of his chest was ever definable as 'love,' yet he found himself thanking Yamcha for being alive-- with or _without_ his pitiable affection for the man. He never _would_ understand what domino had fallen that had lead him to this understanding, either. A long time ago, Puar had watched him stare at Yamcha from the kitchen window without him realizing it, and for a while Tien had damned himself for allowing that sliver to escape his grasp. Tien now realized, though, that Puar was not watching him out of pity, sorrow, or any form of negative feeling.

 

It just happened to be _Yamcha--_ and _that's_ the thing.

 

Yamcha continued breathing softly, Tien feeling the warm rise and fall of his chest.

 

It had been a long time since Tien Shinhan had realized that he had held uncountable feelings for one man in his life-- and there hadn't been a day where he could've forgotten them.

 

* * *

 

Yamcha's mind was a blur of sleep.

 

Half-haze of a consciousness, long past three A.M, half hour after--

 

Tien was holding him. His warm, firm hands-- and a heavy, red-patterned blanket.

 

His eyelids were heavy and his neck hurt. They were both still sitting down, Yamcha in his lap.

 

They needed to go to bed.

 

Yamcha wrapped his arms around Tien's neck and pulled him down towards the floor. His head was foggy, body trying to move to a comfortable position to lay down in. Needed to go back to bed.

 

Tien made some sort of hum, but Yamcha just stuck his face back into Tien's chest.

 

Tien was very warm, like a bed. Tien would never hurt him. They had a home together, back on the farm. Everything would be okay.

 

His hands were so warm when they held him.

 

Spinning out, back into lightheaded darkness.

 

* * *

 

Tien woke up quite comfortable, his heavy eyelids almost unwilling to open. There was a warm presence beside him and he didn't recall falling asleep.

 

Suddenly, though, he realized just what this presence was.

 

Yamcha was pressed up against him, arms around his damn neck, _cuddling_ him. And, god be damned, Tien was cuddling him, too.

 

And then he noticed Krillin sitting a ways away, watching him with the _biggest_ shit eating grin Tien's ever seen on him.

 

At this point, if Cell didn't kill him, he was gonna kill himself.

 

* * *

 

"So? Howd'ja sleep last night, Yamcha?" Krillin asked, his grin wide and smug as Tien wanted to slam his head into the kitchen table.

 

"Uh," Yamcha blinked, "fine. Back kinda hurts, though. Sleepin' on the floor ain't good for my old bones." He then chuckled.

 

Krillin nearly sniggered. "Uh-huh! I bet. Oh, by the way, you're welcome for that blanket I put back on the two'a 'ya this morning," Krillin said, motioning to the extra blanket he brought the night before. At some point in the night, the awkward tangle of limbs that were Tien and Yamcha appeared to not take their blanket into account.

 

Tien was seriously about to punch his lights out. That, or place a well-timed blast to the temple. Whichever came first.

 

"Oh, ah, thanks, Krillin! Yeah, I move around a lot in my sleep!" Yamcha giggled, face sunshiney and shy with his gratitude.

 

Tien shook his head. There was _no_ way he was _that_ oblivious. Either Yamcha was that much of an airhead, or he was single-handedly the most convincing bandit he's ever known. Luckily, after plenty of firm glares from Tien, Krillin managed to shut his smug-ass mouth. He'd get back at him, one of these days.

 

* * *

 

 

Piccolo was fighting back Cell and losing.

 

If Cell got ahold of those androids that Trunks was warning about, it would be an absolute game over.

 

Everything suddenly fell to silence as Tien began remembering a long, restrained feeling-- one he had while facing the Incarnation of Evil. It was a mindset he had desperately tried avoiding after, yet--

 

Tien juggled the variables.

 

The world versus his existence; the manipulatable fate of the Earth and his contribution to it.

 

Tien's mind worked overdrive. This was more than just his life.

 

He would _not_ stand here and let the human race run its course to death. As it was here, he was doing nothing to assist in the furthering of this planet and those he's loved in it.

 

Therefore, the plan he was haphazardly forming was on the mindset of an overused toy or a scrap of trash--

 

being tossed away for the greater of mankind.

 

Blasting off into the sky, he heard the echoing shouts of his friends cascade behind him.

 

It hurt, but their understanding of him was not required.

 

* * *

 

 

"He fucking _can't_ be serious," Yamcha breathed, the salt of Kame House's air suddenly choking him.

 

Tien was _seriously_ fighting against Cell.

 

Alone.

 

Throwing himself _away._

 

Yamcha barely heard the others talking in his muffled hearing.

 

"God's sake, boy! He _knows--_ God, he just--" Roshi stammered, slamming his wooden cane harshly into the sand in unspeakable frustration.

 

"We can try helping him, can't we?!" Krillin yelled, Roshi shaking his head.

 

"No. We can't. If _Goku's_ wanting to wait this one off, what makes you think _we_ could handle it, Krillin?" Roshi said, voice lined with worry for his student.

 

"Well, fuckin'-- we _can't_ just wait here like a bunch'a dogs waiting to _die!_ If you guys won't, _I_ will!" Krillin cried out; the martyr, only second to Tien.

 

However, Yamcha found himself tuning out.

 

 _"Yamcha, you were right. We_ _are_ _the only ones left. I'm just-- I'm not supposed to make it out of this mess."_

 

_"My beliefs, my family, and anything I ever had known in my life has been taken away. My life is all that's left, and I'm not given much of a choice with that, either."_

 

_"All my ties that keep me attached to this world have been torn. But you, Yamcha? You- you have so many reasons to stay right behind you. You have what I do not, and I'm not going to stand here and let you throw it all away if I can handle it myself!"_

 

Nausea and stomach acid attempted to rise up his throat. Yamcha choked, his legs finally, _finally_ giving out as he fell to the sand. Anxiety and adrenaline began flooding every inch of his body, a million thoughts beginning to scream at him to die.

 

Roshi, Chiaotzu, and Krillin were all startled by Yamcha's fall-- but he could just barely comprehend their forms coming to him. His stomach buzzed with the fury of the deepest rugburn, the fear of an unkept promise-- now, a fucking _guarantee._

 

Krillin said something. Yamcha didn't understand it.

 

"I'm going to fucking _die,"_ Yamcha wheezed incomprehensibly, Krillin staring in worry and confusion. Puar burst out of the house upon noticing Yamcha's heaving body, Yamcha upfront screaming in his nerves.

 

Tien was going to die again. Tien was going to die again. Tien was going to die again.

It would be all his fault-- the last survivor. Yamcha was going to survive last, and Yamcha was going to kill himself. Yamcha needed to kill himself. He couldn't bear being alone again. He couldn't bear burying everyone he's ever loved. He wasn't strong enough, didn't mean enough to save Tien or anyone else. He never would be. The power gap between him and the others had left him in the dust-- _useless._

 

A power level kept flaring up from a ways away.

 

And then

 

"Yamcha!" Puar squeaked, her soft paws resting on his shoulder.

 

And then

And then

And then

 

"Yamcha, stop!" Roshi said, firm but far too concerned. The world kept moving on without him, not caring about who saw his downfall.

 

And then

And then

 

"Yamcha, Tien's _alive!_ Goku picked him up!" Krillin yelled harshly, Yamcha's mind reeling as it attempted to stop.

 

And

And

And then

 

And then _what?_

 

Yamcha didn't remember breathing for the past few minutes. Things suddenly slowed down in pace, the violent screaming in his mind dulling to a piercing ring.

 

"God, boy!" Roshi sighed shakily, his hands clammy, "You _seriously_ need to get that checked out! Tien got himself in a jam, but Goku got him _and_ Piccolo up to the Lookout!"

 

Yamcha, realizing just how much sweat was now drenching his body, stared mindlessly at Roshi before looking at his palms. They were shaking, slowly dripping with blood from how hard he clenched his nails.

 

He still couldn't breathe, _still_ felt like he was going to die.

 

He needed to see Tien.

 

* * *

 

Tien awoke at the Lookout. His head burned with a _massive_ headache that was slowly fading, yet he found that everything else was alright. His soul-- which was on the verge of fleeing his devastated body-- was _still_ with him after everything he put himself through.

 

"Well, good afternoon, Tien," Mr. Popo greeted him, a gentle smile gracing his friendly features. Tien sat up from his futon, blinking.

 

"Hello, sir. I.. I'm not _dead,_ am I?" Tien asked, still finding it near impossible to believe that he made it through his attempt.

 

Mr. Popo looked taken aback. "Why, of course not! You're alive and well, Mr. Shinhan, and so is Piccolo."

 

Tien sighed with relief. At least the Dragon Balls weren't knocked out-- _yet._ What a mess they were in. "Well," he started, "I guess I did _something_ right, then. Wait-- _did 18 escape?!"_

 

".. Yes, she did. However, I'd.. _advise_ not taking such hazardous methods of action again," Mr. Popo said a little awkwardly, his eyes glancing away. Tien's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

 

"Did something happen..? I mean, I _stopped_ Cell for a bit, _didn't_ I? It all worked out," Tien said, his head unconsciously tilting to the side.

 

"You did, but with the intention of giving your own life to the cause. I.. I would consider the feelings of a certain close friend of yours before you go off doing such drastic things," Mr. Popo said softly, eyes closed as if not wanting to intrude.

 

Tien's guilt slowly bubbled. ".. Who, Chiaotzu..?" he asked, looking down at his blanket-covered lap. He.. he _knew_ it would've hurt Chiaotzu's feelings to do what he did, and he _genuinely_ was sorry, but.. He'd _understand,_ wouldn't he? It--.. He loved Chiaotzu, truly, but he loved this world just as much-- and the people _in_ it. It was the only way.

 

Mr. Popo's stare didn't leave him. Tien caught the glance, finding his throat gone far dry, before twiddling fearfully with his fingers. If it wasn't Chiaotzu, was it.. Yamcha?

 

His heart twisted. Leaving Yamcha behind in the world was something he intentionally shoved far, far off in the corner of his mind because he _knew--_

 

.. he _knew_ he wouldn't have been able to do it had Yamcha found out.

 

It was a far-gone weakness in his heart. Far, _far_ too severe for Tien to squish out-- not that he hadn't tried before. Albeit, he supposed if the Dragon Balls survived, and if Cell was defeated, they could all just wish him back if they wanted to, but..

 

Tien blinked, his sad, odd feelings towards the situation smothering his chest. "If it's Yamcha you're talking about, I presume you're right. I.. I _didn't_ consider his feelings, _or_ Chiaotzu's. If I did, though, I don't think I would've been able to go through with it."

 

".. Your friend Yamcha's anguish had reached _far_ more than mere loss, Mr. Shinhan."

 

Tien's eyes widened. What the hell did _that_ mean..? He didn't fuck up something beforehand with him, did he? They didn't _argue_ or anything, there wasn't any _ill-will,_ _right?_

 

Mr. Popo sighed.

 

"Certainly, Tien, you remember your childhood. Rather, your teenage years, correct?"

 

Tien nodded, stomach prickling in the knowing sadness that whatever he did, he fucked up _bad._

 

"Then, Mr. Shinhan," Mr. Popo said gently, eyes not leaving Tien's, "I'm sure you could see how your standoff with Cell could easily remind him of your standoff with Demon King Piccolo."

 

Tien's stomach dropped.

 

Tien's stomach fucking _plummeted._

 

He didn't--

 

..

 

He really, really didn't think of that.

 

He had forgotten just how severely, just how _horrifically_ Yamcha had fallen at the idea of Tien suicide-attacking an enemy and how little Tien cared about himself. It was the entire damn reason why Yamcha couldn't use his _fucking_ legs, and Tien had god damn _forgotten._

 

The look on his face as Tien let go of his hands back on that day--

The clamminess of his shaking palms--

The loss of hope. Yamcha had believed that he, the failed death attempt, would be the last one alive to witness the death of anyone and everyone he cared about.

.. and Tien himself solidified it.

 

His head was cleared, his mindset he used to fuel himself beginning to fall to pieces.

 

He had single handedly done something far, far worse than challenging Cell.

 

* * *

 

"How could you _fucking_ _DO THIS TO ME,_ TIEN?!" Yamcha's shrill, violent yell echoed through the hallway, his sobs mere steps from wails as Krillin and Roshi were listening on.

 

"Yamcha, _Yamcha,_ I'm-- I understand now, I'm--" Tien's rushed, fearful voice responded, but not fast enough.

 

"Why-  _WHY_ do you keep wanting to _ HURT ME like this?!" _ Yamcha yelled, eyes burning with tears and pain as he lunged to weakly punch Tien in the chest. His fist connected to the chest, but it shriveled upon hit. Roshi sighed, motioning for Krillin to leave the area to give them some privacy. Krillin's face was crinkled in shame and sorrow as he walked out of the area-- whatever their problem was, Krillin could god damn _feel_ it.

 

"Yamcha, I'm-- I'm so sorry, I-- I for- I forgot, Yamcha--"

 

"You fucking _FORGOT?!_ Tien, what the- _how?!_ **_HOW_** did you forget?! Do I-- Do I matter that _little_ to you?!" Yamcha cried tearily, his lungs heaving and dry. He broke into tears after a harsh shudder, Tien's eyes burning.

 

"Of _course_ you matter-- so much, Yamcha, I'm--" Tien cracked, his voice aching with the weight of tears. "It-- I wasn't-- I forgot just how I--"

 

"Fuck it, Shinhan," Yamcha sobbed, rubbing harshly at his puffy eyes, "just fuck it. I--.. At least let me have a goodbye before you fucking _off_ yourse--"

 

"I did what I did so that you all had another chance!" Tien interrupted, yelling hoarsely. The sting of Yamcha's words hurt, but not nearly as bad as seeing him so utterly betrayed. "I'm sorry, I-- I'm really sorry. I'm sorry, Yamcha. I'd give anything to keep you safe, and I just keep-- I keep doing the _wrong_ things to do it," he begged, tears splattering against the cement.

 

Something seemed heart wrenchingly familiar about this, and Tien damned himself for it.

 

Yamcha had stiffened at this, staring at him. Wind brushed by them before he sobbed, long and weak. The shamed, sorrowful flush that stung Tien's face was persistent as Yamcha's arms wrapped around him tightly. As hard as he tried not to, Tien's mind kept blaring the self-hating question-- how long would Yamcha put up with him?

 

It'd only be a matter of when, wouldn't it?

 

Yamcha sniffled into Tien's shoulder and neck, the tears wetting the bruised and scarred skin. "I know why you did it, Tien. I get it-- but please.. _please_ don't. If everything goes to shit, I.. I don't want you to be gone."

 

Tien felt so many things he tried to bottle, but it came spilling out of his eyelids. He had now come to the conclusion he _really_ had to stop for Yamcha's sake, at least.

Chiaotzu's explosion, that faraway and blue-skied day against the Saiyans, reverberated in his mind like a rung bell. He knew far too well how it felt on the receiving end of giving up.

 

He had to protect them while he was alive--

 

protect _him_ while he was alive.

 

He couldn't love if he was dead.

 

"Then I'll do my best," was all Tien could utter, voice muddled with tears.

 

* * *

 

"Are we _seriously_ out of _rice?"_ Yamcha asked over his shoulder, Tien frowning sadly as he closed the book he was reading.

 

"Yeah, we are. With the Cell Games about to start, everyone went and bought just about everything they could in the stores. Sorry, my friend," Tien said, truly regretting the fact that he couldn't feed his own damned partner. He almost felt like a failure of a roomie.

 

"Hey, c'mon, Mister Muscles. It's all good! Got _plenty_ of ramen-- hey, it's good enough for me!" Yamcha said firmly, Tien sighing with a smile.

 

"I feel bad that I can't even take care of you, though! You shouldn't have to resort to _instant soup,_ for Christ's sake. We live on a _farm,"_ Tien laughed regretfully, Yamcha waving him off.

 

"Shit, dude, if I wanted to eat some, uh, preserved carrots or something, I _would_ have. Beef flavor is best flavor," he commented, pulling out a plastic cup of ramen. Tien chuckled fondly, reopening his book.

 

\--

 

"So, like, _stupid,_ right?" Yamcha said over a mouthful of instant ramen, speaking loudly so Tien could hear from his spot in the living room.

 

"That _does_ sound a little shitty, yeah," Tien admitted in response to Yamcha's story, the soft blue of the early summer sunset blurring his features. Yamcha continued to slurp his quick dinner from the kitchen table, gulping it hastily.

 

"Yeah!" Yamcha chewed, "and to make it worse-- she fuckin' called her stupid _dog_ on me. Like-- _I_ wasn't the one who fuckin'--"

 

The radio suddenly turned on, blaring a weather emergency with an annoying screech:

 

"A weather emergency has been declared for your local area. Around 7:04 P.M West Standard Time, a severe storm was detected to be forming around West City and much of the mountainous region in the surrounding area. Please be cautious of hazardous roads conditions and loose flying objects, and stay alert to any weather changes as stated by your local news channel. Thank you for tuning in, this is WCRB, West City Radio Broadcasting!"

 

A stupid jingle played as Yamcha snickered, finishing his ramen and standing up. "Well, great! Day before the Cell Games start and we'll be playin' in the mud," Yamcha smirked, walking a little stiffly to the garbage and tossing his ramen cup away.

 

"Oh, it'll be a blast," Tien sighed sarcastically, Yamcha sitting beside him on the couch with a smile.

 

"Yeah, for sure! Ugh. Are Chiaotzu and Puar still stayin' with Bulma for the fight?" Yamcha said, glancing over at him.

 

"Yeah.. Chiaotzu was really upset with me. I managed to convince him to, but.. I really don't think he expects us to live through the ordeal."

 

 _"That_ much hope for us, huh?" Yamcha said pitifully, trying to ignore the fearful knot in his stomach as he chuckled. Tien huffed, frowning as he closed his eyes.

 

".. I can't quite say I blame him," Tien said, laying his head against the edge of the sofa to look at the ceiling. Thunder quietly rumbled from a distance, the sky darkening to a near pure black.

 

".. You don't think we'll make it either, do you?" Yamcha mumbled softly, his stare not leaving Tien's eyes.

 

A gust of wind hit the house, and the shoddy lights of their home flickered before turning off with a dismal hum. It almost felt like the hope in the room went out with it.

 

Tien sighed quietly at the darkness. The wooden net-windows rattled in their holder, the doors jingling against the sudden burst of wind.

 

Yamcha sat back against the sofa and never felt so afraid. Birds in cages; _that_ was who they all were. Cell could _literally_ come to their house, blast the foundation right off the ground it was made on, and then break apart the Earth until it was reduced to nothing.

 

Shaking, Yamcha gathered up a small amount of ki in his palm and held it out, a vivid, burning ball of energy erupting and gathering back.

 

"Maybe the- the," Yamcha gulped, for some reason unable to stop trembling, "maybe a bit of Spirit Ball might help things stay in shape. Don't you think so?"

 

Tien smiled at Yamcha sadly, the blue-white of his Spirit Ball reflecting pale on Tien's face.

 

Yamcha looked down, the weight of the world and the arriving end of his own life resting on the back of his neck. He inhaled, his body threatening to give out as a clap of thunder boomed through the house.

 

".. I worked so hard to perfect my stupid Spirit Ball. In the end, though, the only thing it's useful for is a light bulb."

 

The hand that held up the Spirit Ball shook, Yamcha startling when it was suddenly stabled by a warm, calloused hand.

 

The rain began hitting the roof of the house by this point, and a soft mumble filled the void against the utter silence of their home.

 

Tien's thumb slowly trailed across a scar on Yamcha's wrist, one made by fighting and not by his own accord, before he let go of Yamcha's hand.

 

Yamcha's hand twitched at the sudden coldness before, without thinking, impulsively grabbed Tien's hand again. Yamcha heard Tien's surprise as his eyes darted to the seat cushion again, a sudden burning overtaking his eyes.

 

He was so, so naïve-- _pathetic._

 

How long had he gone on daydreaming? How far did their shadows stretch together through the years and _still_ not come to the conclusion that there was _more_ than this?

 

He never _could_ understand. And now it was to be the end of everything.

 

As the light of the Spirit Ball dulled and spattered out of existence, Tien caught Yamcha and held him.

 

Tien's arms squeezed around his body. Yamcha was unable to stop his own shaking-- a feeling of his soul trying to leap free of his own skin. It felt like the burn of an explosion that never finished, a shudder that didn't quite shake-- and it was far too similar to a fall that had crippled him.

 

Yamcha didn't know what to think of anything anymore. All he had now was regret and a strong feeling that he was witnessing of one of the biggest failures in his life.

 

The rain picked up against their home, soft splatters beginning to drown out their heartbeats.

 

"Tien?"

 

"Yes?" Tien replied gently.

 

"You're my best friend," Yamcha spoke, his voice shaking in the dark.

 

Tien's fingers spread across Yamcha's back, moving to rest his chin on his shoulder. Yamcha for some reason had to restrain a shudder at the contact. He inhaled, exhaled, and quietly rested his head in the crook of Tien's shoulder and neck.

 

Something in his heart ached _really_ bad.

 

"As are you, my dear partner," Tien mumbled, Yamcha feeling it more than he heard it.

 

The rain began washing in torrents against the house. Yamcha's fingers felt the fabric of Tien's white shirt, the cotton coarse under the pads of his calloused fingers. He closed his eyes.

 

"I was really scared for you back there, Yamcha," Tien said quietly, his throat rumbling softly against Yamcha's ear.

 

Yamcha's eyebrows lowered as his grip became more firm. "Gero?"

 

"Yeah," Tien said, quietly laying back against the couch with him on top. Yamcha's cheeks burned, but he couldn't turn away.

 

"I'm sorry," Yamcha said quietly into his neck, a flash of pain glittering across his heart. He wished he'd never have to hurt Tien like that again-- intentional or otherwise.

 

The rain harshly sloshed against the house. "You don't know how glad I am that you lived," Tien said, Yamcha feeling Tien's neck begin to heat up.

 

Yamcha softly pressed his lips against his skin, a part of him aching to kiss but merely closing his eyes. "I'm.. I'm glad you lived, too," he whispered. ".. Not even just from Cell, but from _everything._ I keep thinking of you and when we were both just stupid kids. I can't--.. I can't stop thinking about you."

 

Fabric moved, Yamcha's eyes opening before they fluttered closed-- Tien's lips found his neck in the dark, too. His hand had found the back of Yamcha's neck, goosebumps flaring hard under his fingers. Yamcha's hunger for Tien to press him further only grew, lodging itself in the middle of his throat. Somehow, though, it still hadn't dawned that _Tien_ may have reciprocated some of his feelings, too. Not until that specific moment, really- and Yamcha was _begging_ for more of those feelings to awaken.

 

"You've always been.. so forgiving to me," Tien sighed, Yamcha barely catching it in the softness of his voice.

 

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by lips-- _teeth,_ mind reeling-- kissing his neck. His cheeks flared, breath taken as he closed his eyes. His mind was empty; _this_ was the event horizon he had been wanting. His legs twitched as he straddled him, letting Tien lead him to wherever the hell he _wanted_ to lead him.

 

In the haze of these feelings, Yamcha's hands quietly roamed as he kissed the top of his shoulder. A hand ended up drifting to his thigh, Yamcha feeling one of the deep-set scars Tien had gotten very long ago in his youth. He softly, tenderly stroked along the line of sunken skin through Tien's nightpants. He had never felt so safe exploring the body of another so _intimately,_ yet so familiar to him that his fingers shook.

 

They both had a plethora of scars and bruises, injuries that would never heal completely.

 

Tien's shudder-- and the following nibble to his neck, at that-- only made something in Yamcha's chest twist and burn furiously. He attempted to kiss Tien, haphazardly moving away from his shoulder before an outrageously loud clap of thunder shook the house-- and them.

 

They both stared at each other in that resounding darkness, lips parted and eyes begging-- but for some reason couldn't bear the weight of words.

 

Yamcha blinked, rubbing the side of his head as if it would solve the feeling Tien gave him. It didn't-- not in that darkness, it wouldn't. "If we.." Yamcha started, hands trembling, fingers _clamming_ to hold him. It was all he had to _remember,_ though, that--

 

Tien's chest rose and fell in that storm-filled silence. "Things won't be the same if we do this," he whispered, eyes filled with a feeling that left Yamcha hungering to bloom it forth even moreso. Before his brain caught up with the urging in his chest, however, Yamcha felt his mouth working for him.

 

"I _want_ you, Tien."

 

He hadn't meant to admit it so soon.

 

The sudden drop of fear that came with that admittance had spiked him harshly, but all Yamcha could do was stare dry-mouthed at Tien.

 

In the end, though, he didn't _want_ things to be the same if it meant Tien loved him. There were only so many immeasurable hours before they were reduced to dust.

 

Tien bit his lip _hard,_ more than Yamcha's ever seen the gears of his head turning-- "I want you, too"-- before suddenly pulling Yamcha by the collar and kissing him fully in the dark.

 

It was tongue, teeth, and inadequacy, but it left Yamcha gripping at the front of Tien's shirt. He'd wanted this for so _long,_ their finale of being alive so _close,_ and _damn_ him if he wasn't going out with the one man he's--

 

Tien's hands traced over scars on his arms, his shoulder, neck-- and _every_ scar, he knew the story to. Those hands, ones that Yamcha had held and felt himself, hands that could punch his lights out yet be so god damn _gentle--_

 

Yamcha, he--

 

Tien moved to grip his lower back as thunder roared from somewhere. Yamcha shuddered and threw his arms around his neck, giving Tien everything he's ever felt.

 

He loved this man.

 

Yamcha loved Tien Shinhan,

 

and he loved him so much.

 

* * *

 

The end of everything was nigh.

 

Gohan's attack against Perfect Cell was failing, and Piccolo couldn't even dent the monster. Yamcha didn't know what scared him most-- dying _again,_ or facing Goku with his eleven year old son with him. Yamcha's heart race, ran, blood running so damn hot that it left him shuddering with shivers. From his right, though, he noticed a light in his peripheral.

 

Tien was beginning to emanate and glimmer with raw, unfiltered energy. It waved off of him in shudders of light, his face a firm glare towards Cell. Those eyes, the piercing, unadulterated look of utter hatred-- there was something there that Yamcha had never seen, not even towards himself those many years ago at the Tenkaichi Budokai Tournament.

 

Krillin had said something, but Yamcha didn't hear any of it.

 

"It's just not my style to wait for death without putting up a decent fight," Tien said, his hands clenching 'till his short fingernails had dug into his calloused palms. The light glimmered further, the light beginning to openly sparkle in the sunlight. Tien looked at him, Yamcha only realizing then that he was staring. His mouth was dry, heart painfully thudding against his bruised and dried out lungs.

 

Tien had kissed that mouth not twenty-four hours prior.

 

Yamcha, startled, blinked and chuckled as if it was all part of his plan. "Just like you always are-- honorable, sure, but you never know when to give it up," Yamcha smiled to himself, glancing back to Tien. Tien was grinning, eyebrows raised.

 

"What, you aren't comin' along, too? And _I_ thought that you always _liked_ to play the big, bad wolf," Tien smirked, Yamcha scoffing.

 

"I think a giant-ass bug-monster-thing is _definitely_ a wolf's predator.. but I think I'll follow you," Yamcha said, standing up on his wobbly legs and steadying himself. Tien rolled his eyes a little before chuckling, standing closer to his fighting partner.

 

"Atta'boy. Let's give it the best shot we got. Okay?" Tien said, encouragingly raising his energy to spark Yamcha's determination.

 

Yamcha, though, could only stare thoughtfully at Tien.

 

The world was ending, _surely--_ but there was something sad about all of this. Honestly, not the Earth dying, not the horror that was Cell reigning, but..

 

Yamcha and Tien never stood a chance.

 

Tien looked at him back, vulnerable with a grin that nearly threatened to break Yamcha's heart.

 

He was beautiful.

 

 _"..Kr-_ Krillin, _"_ Yamcha breathed distractedly before his voice leveled and rose, "You stay here with Trunks! We're gonna try to push him away from Gohan!"

 

Krillin nodded. "Stay safe, 'ya buncha' damn morons. Don't fuck up another pair'a body parts!" he warned, half jokingly but nearly serious. Yamcha flicked him off, snickering.

 

"Oh, eat a fuckin' dick, you short-ass little punk. C'mon, Tien, let's ditch the bleachers," Yamcha said with a grin, body warm from the little moment of safety that Krillin brought.

 

"As long as there's no halftime, I guess I'll follow," Tien chuckled, jumping off the cliff side along with Yamcha and levitating to where Cell and Gohan-- the demon and savior of Earth-- were fighting.

 

* * *

 

They kept getting blown away by the sheer force of Cell's resistance.. with Yamcha landing wrong on the side of his knee. It crunched hollowly as he slammed into the ground, a scream ripping through his throat. The dust and dirt was thrashing against him, scraping his skin-- the _second broken limb--_ _god,_ _why was this happening--_

 

"Hold on, Yamcha," Tien said weakly, exhausted from the onslaught of energy attempting to push him back. Tien eventually reached him, Yamcha's injured, trembling body weakly allowing itself to be lifted by Tien's shaking grip. Yamcha's eyes burned harshly with failure.

 

"Tien," Yamcha coughed in the dust, tears streaming, leg and arm throbbing with pain, "I can't do this anymore. I can't." Tien held him up, softly holding one of Yamcha's hands and keeping him up with the other. Ki began thrumming through the both of them-- enough to spark Yamcha's energy over his agony. He found himself piling his power with Tien's, their ki-energy combining into one severe, burning blast of holographic light.

 

The tears kept flowing, an aching in his chest growing larger.

 

The vulnerable bandit succumbed to his regret from years gone by, water puddles and oceans of longing reflecting his own failure back at him.

 

"I'm so fucking scared, Tien," Yamcha sobbed as his body shook, his legs having given out quite a few moments ago.

 

"We'll be okay, Yamcha. Keep with me. Keep with me, buddy," Tien breathed, coughing away from them as he continued to target and blast Cell.

 

The wind, the _world_ kept trying to push them back. Energy sharp as knives were burning, etching marks against the blood and bruises--

 

but the two remained.

 

Stiff as boards, no longer alone, the two would stay there until the eve of their deaths rang for them like bells.

 

Suddenly, light had overthrown their vision. Yamcha heard Tien scream as he flew backwards, barely registering Tien grabbing onto his hand and gripping hard. They began spinning violently and incoherently as energy forced them back like a stone wall.

 

Yamcha's grip was slipping, and he couldn't see anymore in the blinding light.

 

"Don't let go of my hand!" Tien roared-- voice shaking, Yamcha could hear the tears-- over the force of Cell being killed. He couldn't keep this up.

 

Using the very last of the energy he had and a broken arm, he managed to grip onto Tien's arm, elbow, shoulders, and finally hold Tien as hard as he could. For just one moment, one of the most fleeting moments Yamcha ever felt, the two of them held each other in the crumbling of the world. Tien was crying, saying something that Yamcha couldn't decipher amidst the chaos around them.

 

In one swift movement of some flow of energy, they were flung upwards into the sky and had been broken apart.

 

The world roared, their forms floating like pepper with the trembling of the Earth.

 

* * *

 

The dull ringing and lights had dwindled down, but Tien didn't remember witnessing it. All he knew was that the energy that was tossing the two of them around like ragdolls had faded down, and Yamcha was now free-falling, unconscious, to Earth--

 

He quickly lunged for him, managing to catch him with arms that were just _barely_ hanging on to functioning. Yamcha was absolutely _tattered,_ his knee and arm dangling haphazardly from his body. Tien's eyes were stinging with dust and tears.

 

He listened for a heartbeat, and had found it-- not after immediately thanking literally any and every force of God that existed in this world. The relief was immeasurable, adjusting Yamcha's arm and leg before holding him closely to his body. There would be no more pain this time around. They'd be going home soon, and damn it, they'd be fucking _alive._

 

"The kid did it, all on his own." Tien smiled as he talked quietly, knowing Yamcha couldn't hear it. "Isn't that amazing?"

 

"Jesus Christ," Krillin loudly exclaimed from a ways away, startling Tien out of his thoughts. "Gohan, you-- you seriously killed Cell! I can't detect him from anywhere!"

 

"Neither can I. Absolutely _incredible_ work, Gohan," Piccolo said, still in absolute shock.

 

Tien began flying towards the kid, but hesitated.

 

He was carrying Yamcha in his arms.

 

The others..?

 

Tien sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He'd deal with the problems later. This wasn't about _them,_ it was about _this fucking_ _kid,_ good _god!_

 

Flying down over with the others, he smiled. "Saving the world must run in the family, huh, Gohan?" he fondly spoke, loud enough for Gohan to hear from the ground.

 

Gohan only laughed with a proud, happy exhaustion.

 

* * *

 

It was after the Cell Games had ended.

 

Tien had said something gentle, something about how he was gonna take some time on his own for a while-- _no_ training. Yamcha barely caught Tien at the end of the Lookout.

 

"No, hey, wait-- What's.. what's wrong, Tien?" Yamcha said, placing a hand softly on one of Tien's scarred biceps. He couldn't just.. just leave him hanging like that. Not after the explosion-- not..

 

Tien's eyes were glimmering around the bottom lid. "Oh.. hey. I wasn't sure if you were gonna stick around or come home with me."

 

Yamcha's heartbeat froze.

 

It was a sharp thudding in his ears, the blue of the sky so _vivid_ that it hurt.

 

No clouds on that late afternoon. The upcoming dusk was hitting blue on Tien's face, and Yamcha only wanted to see that face for the rest of his life. He inhaled.

 

".. Home?"

 

Tien stared at him passively, Yamcha noticing how he bit his cheek. He nodded quietly, and his face turned to look away.

 

"Yes, home. Would you like to?" Tien asked calmly, his eyes shyly staying away from Yamcha's stare.

 

His lips twitched as he spoke, Yamcha having to tear his eyes off them to stare back at Tien. He loosened his grip on his bicep, sliding his hand to Tien's shoulder. His heart felt so light.

 

"Can I always come home with you?" Yamcha whispered, heart nearly shuddering at just how far gone he was. They were supposed to die back there, the two of them.

 

Tien's face lit up like the sun.

 

"You ask as if it's _ever_ been a question."

 

Yamcha, holding his breath, had a feeling that Krillin was right; Cupid really _did_ have a way of picking targets.

 

He caught Tien's gaze as he opened his eyes, the darkness of his irises catching the sun.

 

Whatever this was, and whatever Tien was,

 

Yamcha wanted it.

 

Tien gulped, a hand trailing to Yamcha's shoulder.

 

Yamcha's eyelids fluttered shut as he leaned in, pressing the weight on his tiptoes, needing to be on _his_ level and have _him_ know it. He felt Tien's hand cup his cheek, the other slide to his neck.

 

"Let's go home," Yamcha mumbled, turning his head as he pressed into his lips.

 

"Uncle Yamcha! Uncle Tien!" Gohan yelled from a distance, the two of them jumping harshly. Yamcha spun around, Tien rapidly darting his hand away from Yamcha's cheek and neck.

 

"What's, uh, what's up, buddy?" Yamcha called out, heart still racing. He had no idea what the fuck was going on anymore.

 

"I just wanted to say goodbye before I go on home!" Gohan said, smiling. Yamcha smiled, the adrenaline already close to making him fall over.

 

"Well, c'mon, kid, bring it in! Not many lil' boys like you had the balls to do what you did out there!" Yamcha grinned happily, opening his arms wide for a hug as he walked staggardly to the boy.

 

They would find themselves out one way or another, Yamcha was certain.

 

He may not have had the life he thought he'd grasp, but he didn't regret living past his original intentions.

 

Tien would still be home waiting for him, after all.

 


End file.
